Chapter Text
Time Doesn’t Heal All Wounds
Chapter 1: The Boy By the Seine
The soft glow of sunlight peeked through the huge windows. He slept comfortably, peacefully, bundled up tightly under his covers. Everything was nice. Peaceful. Nothing could go wrong in the security of his bed. Like all things, however, even sleep must come to a close for the day to begin, as signified by the shrill tones of the alarm on his phone. A soft groan rumbled from Adrien’s throat as he reluctantly shifted under his covers, ready to get out of bed and get ready for school. Sure, he never minded going in the end, it was nice getting out of the house and seeing his friends. The only downside was that he had to wake up so early . Sometimes there were akumas that would attack in the wee hours of the morning. Adrien wonders if Shadowmoth ever got any sleep if he was willing to wait until three am just to send an akuma.
Last night happened to be one of those nights. They won, just like they alway do. The victim ended up being a very stressed out terminale student who was up all night trying to study for some important exams. The akuma threatened to level her school and then “take care of” their instructors. The fight went on until it was almost dawn, so Adrien only got a couple hours of sleep the entire night. It was a scary thought how such anger could turn murderous with the right influence. Shadowmoth couldn’t be defeated soon enough. No one should have their darkest feelings exploited and turned outward like that. It was dangerous for everyone involved.
Still, ruminating on what had happened wasn’t going to change the situation, and he needed to get ready for school. Adrien rubbed his eyes and turned to his right, where a miniature black cat was seemingly lazing about on his pillow.
“Come on, Plagg. It’s time to get up.”
The lazy kwami groaned in irritation and floated toward his user. “Blehhh, I hate mornings. Can’t we sleep in a little longer, Adrien?”
“You know the rules, Plagg.”
“I knowww,” Plagg whined. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.” Adrien didn’t reply, and simply went about his business getting ready for the day while Plagg gorged himself on his morning camembert. After making sure he was ready and had everything he needed, he called over his kwami to hide in his jacket before making his way downstairs. It was only 8:00, he didn’t have to be at school for another hour, and Francois Dupont wasn’t too far from the mansion. He could take his time and eat breakfast while scrolling through some videos on the Ladyblog or YouTube. But what’s the fun of eating breakfast by yourself?
… At least there was Plagg.
Adrien entered the dining room where, to his surprise, Nathalie was sitting at the end of the table closest to the door. There was a cane propped against the table, and it seemed she was only in her night clothes still, with her hair tied in a bun that was messier than usual. The boy smiled. He was glad to see her in better health after the bouts with that mysterious illness. Especially with how similar it was to his mother’s… Seeing the closest person he had to a mother since Emilie’s “disappearance” fade away from eerily similar symptoms was difficult. No doubt it only grew worse since she lacked the strength to walk for… Almost four months now? Thank goodness she was able to power through it.
Adrien took his normal seat at the end of the large dining table, to which Nathalie turned to look at the boy. She motioned for a server to bring him a plate. It was simple: just a fresh croissant with jam, a small slice of brie cheese and camembert, and a glass of milk. Adrien bid the server a thank you before waving her off as she retreated to the kitchens.
“Good morning, Nathalie.”
“Good morning, Adrien.” Neither one says anything for a short moment as Adrien eats his croissant and Nathalie sips her coffee.
“How are you feeling?” Adrien asks. She takes another sip of coffee before answering.
“It’s been a better day than most, so far. I haven’t been as fatigued and my breathing has improved. I doubt I’ll ever fully recover from this.”
“Now don’t say that!” Adrien cringed when he realized how loud he was. Nathalie raised a brow, leading to a sheepish reaction from the boy. “Sorry. So far you’ve managed to overcome this, something Maman couldn’t do. I just… Don’t want you to discredit your recovery progress.”
“It’s thoughtful for you to be concerned, but you don’t have to worry, Adrien. I’ll be fine.” All Adrien could do was smile a weary smile and eat more of his breakfast. When Nathalie looked away for a moment, he fed the camembert slice to Plagg underneath his jacket. He would have fed the brie to him if she didn’t look back in his direction, so he sliced it in half, no doubt saving the other slice for later. He studied her face. The silence made the already large dining hall even bigger. It made Nathalie feel more distant from Adrien despite the fact she was sitting a seat away from him to his left. She seemed like she wanted to say something, but for whatever reason couldn’t bring herself to speak. Instead, she sipped her coffee again. Adrien looked at his phone. A thought came to mind and his eyes lit up. Hopefully, this could break the ice.
“Oh! I remembered seeing something about Jagged Stone releasing a new single this month. Can I get it when it comes out? Maybe we can listen to it together when we have some free time.”
Nathalie chuckled as a faint smile ghosted her lips. She knew Adrien enjoyed Jagged’s music, not that it was bad, it was better than what was generally popular nowadays. Still, it was a kind sentiment that he wanted to spend time with her, and deep down she was happy that the boy cared so much for her. “That sounds nice. I’ll see what I can do to convince your father. Speaking of, I thought he would be here by now?”
“I don’t remember him having time to eat breakfast with me today.”
“Maybe he will, but-” She was cut off by the sound of the door creaking open and closing. With how quiet the room was, even with their conversation, caused the sound of the creaking hinges and clicks to be louder than it should have been. They looked over to see Gabriel, who was standing with his arms crossed behind his back. His expression was softer than normal, but it still carried the grim sternness that had always been tethered to him ever since Adrien’s known his father. He walked toward the table and sat across from Nathalie.
“A moment, Adrien.”
“Is something wrong, Father?”
“I’ve had Nathalie call your teacher yesterday. You won’t be going to school today.”
Adrien’s face fell when he heard those words. What happened? Did he do something wrong? Last he remembered, he’s done fine at everything so far, so what would be the problem? Was a photoshoot going to take all day, or…?
“Did I do something wrong, Father?” Gabriel looked confused at the worried tone to his son’s voice, but to Adrien’s internal relief, his father shook his head.
“No, you haven’t. However, there’s something that your bodyguard needs to assist Nathalie with, and your usual substitute driver is on medical leave due to a compound fracture in one of his legs. Since there’s no one else I trust that can take you to school, it’s safer to keep you at home. It’ll only be for today. I believe one of your classmates will bring over your work, as per usual.”
“Why’s Gorilla having to help Nathalie?” He tried not to snort from the expression Gabriel gave in response to the nickname his son had for the bodyguard, even if the older man had heard it too many times to count at this point. But Gabriel looked at Nathalie, as if he couldn’t be bothered to explain everything himself.
“Well,” Nathalie began. “The lease to my apartment ended today. There’s going to be a couple of moving trucks bringing my things from over there back here. I’ve talked to the landlord about everything I planned to do, and once that was all said and done, had Gabriel send some people to pack everything while you were at school.”
“The doctor’s orders say that Nathalie isn’t allowed to lift anything more than six kilograms while she’s coming off of bedrest, which is why we have to involve your bodyguard in the heavy lifting if we want everything moved today.”
That makes sense. Usually, Gabriel would pull Adrien out of school without little explanation behind what’s going on or even what he did wrong. There were so few things Adrien really knew about his father at all. He resented the secret keeping. Why couldn’t Gabriel trust his own son, for god’s sake? Adrien fidgets his ring. Ironic, that one of the few things he hated the most was also what kept Paris safe. Perhaps one day there will be no more secrets. He sighs, looking at the two adults in the room, waiting for anything else they would like to add.
“Well,” Nathalie paused for a moment, as if trying to think of what to say or how to phrase it. “I have to sort through everything to see what I’d want to keep and what I want to put into storage. My room isn’t large enough. I was hoping you would help with that while your father is working. We had to push the photoshoot scheduled for today back until tomorrow.”
“That’s alright!” Adrien smiled. “I don’t mind helping if you need it, Nathalie. I’ll just send a message in the group chat telling everyone I won’t be in today. When are the trucks going to come in?”
Gabriel checks the time on his phone. It was 8:26. “If everything goes accordingly and the traffic isn’t too terrible or there’s no akuma attack, around 10:00 this morning. Anyway, I should head back to the atelier.” The chair squeaked dully against the marble floor as Gabriel pushed it back to the table. The door creaks as the older Agreste takes his leave from the dining hall, leaving only Adrien and Nathalie once again. Neither one says anything else as they take their leave from each other, going back to their respective rooms. Holding the spare slice of brie, he releases Plagg from his pocket and sits at his desk by the computer.
“So, what’re you gonna do now?” Plagg asks as he swallows the slice whole.
“I told Father what I was going to do. All I can do afterwards is wait, my friends have class soon. I don’t want to disturb them.”
Adrien pulls out his phone and opens up the group chat on their messenger app. Nothing new was in the chat except for a Hawkmoth meme that Nino sent. Adrien smirks, reacting at the image with a laughing emote. Then he goes on to send the message in chat.
Ladybug’s number 1 stan: Hey guys. I won’t be in class today. Father can’t find another driver and my bodyguard is busy helping get some boxes moved into the mansion
I’ll be back tomorrow.
Not even a minute passed before there was a small flood of messages in the chat. Class hadn’t started yet, with a few of their friends straggling about to get to school. Nino sent a frowning cat meme.
DJ_Wifi: What? That’s bogus, dude
Your old man is too paranoid, why’s he got you held up?
Ladybug’s number 1 stan: He’s just trying to keep me safe. I don’t really mind it, at least this time. I’m helping Nathalie. She’s moving to the mansion, for whatever reason
DJ_Wifi: thought she was already living there, Adrien
She was always theree when we came over for projects.
That was true. But Adrien knew otherwise. His father allowed her to stay because it was easier for her to work long nights without the risk of being late. On top of that, her sickness made it harder for her to get around. It was nice of his father to be so generous to Nathalie. She made their lives easier, after all. They were both amicable toward each other. You’d have to be an idiot not to see how close they were, especially considering their relationship as boss and employee; some would have thought there was something deeper below the surface. Adrien squints at the screen. Looking back on the first time Felix visited after Emilie’s disappearance, in hindsight, maybe he shouldn’t have prodded Gabriel on moving on when it was the anniversary of his mother’s death. Adrien knew very little about his father, but there were three things he could safely say that he understood about Gabriel Agreste: he was stubborn, in denial…
… And very hellbent on hanging on to what little threads of the past still remained in the present.
Adrien sat there for five minutes, mulling over just what to say in response to the message, but nothing really came to mind to affirm them of any suspicions. Alya always had some sort of crazy theory that Gabriel and Nathalie were in a secret relationship that they didn’t want anyone to know about, simply because it would ruin the reputation of the entire Agreste brand. It wasn’t as crazy as her other theory of them being Hawkmoth and Mayura, but at least Adrien had some understanding of the legal and societal implications of a boss sleeping with his personal assistant. He had to overhear enough scandals from Gabriel’s ranting over the phone with his business associates when he was still being homeschooled by Nathalie.
“You gonna keep your buddy waiting, kid?” Adrien shoots a glare at his kwami before finally getting something he wanted to say typed down.
Ladybug’s number 1 stan: Makes sense. Sorry, I had to find something.
Dj_Wifi: No worries, dude
Gotta put my phone up anyway
Talk to us at lunch if you get a chance
Ladybug’s number 1 stan: I’ll try to!
Adrien reacts with an OK emote before closing the messenger app. Now that he wasn’t able to talk to anyone in his class, he had a lot of time to think to himself. He starts tapping a pencil against the keyboard in pure boredom as Plagg eats another slice of camembert. The kwami huffs before flying over to his holder.
“Wanna patrol while you have some free time? It’s going to be a while before you have to help, y’know. I mean, I can always eat my delicious cheese, but I don’t like seeing that sad look on your face.”
“I’m not sad, Plagg. I’m just lost.” He spins in his chair and gets up. “I’ve thought about this a lot, even before Mom left us. I’ve always wondered if there was more to Father and Nathalie’s relationship than what he tells me. They’ve always talked like they were close friends. Mom was friends with Nathalie too before she became so sick. They were always so busy. The only thing Mom even told me about her was that they’ve been friends since before I was born. So, more than fourteen years.”
“What’s your point, Adrien?”
“They’re hiding something. I’m tired of being kept in the dark. It’s one thing that Ladybug keeps secrets from me, at least that I can understand. But it’s another when your own family is hiding everything from you to the point that you don’t even know them by anything other than a mask. I just want to know my Father better. At least then I could understand why he feels like he has to hide so much.”
“How do you suppose you’ll do that? I don’t think your father’s going to be broken into so easily. He’s got a rind so thick it’d break your teeth.” Adrien just laughs.
“You don’t have to keep bringing up the tomme cheese analogy with my father, Plagg. But you’re right. I can’t just ask Father, he’s always so busy and even then he dodges questions like they’re a disease. I’d probably have better luck asking Nathalie anything.”
“You will.” Adrien raises an eyebrow at his kwami who just flies around with a semblance of a nonchalant grin on his face. “It isn’t like she’d have any reason she wouldn’t tell you anything. The only thing she’d be busy with while you’re helping her is sorting through those old boxes. I dunno why humans want to keep their old junk lying around. Sentimentality over anything besides cheese is weird. Maybe she’d want to talk while you’re both sorting to pass the time.”
“Do you think that’d really work?” Adrien asks.
“Maybe? I dunno! Humans are weird.” Plagg shrugs. Adrien rolls his eyes.
“If you say so, Plagg.” He replies, mainly at the remark about humans being weird seeing as not many humans gorged themselves on cheese on a daily basis like Plagg. Part of it may have been reassurance for himself, however. Much of his father’s reputation and appeal was centered around just how mysterious the elder Agreste really was. No one knew anything about his past, for it was always overshadowed by the illustrious career of being the “King of Fashion” as dubbed in Style Queen Magazine for the past fifteen years or so.
Even Adrien, his own son, knew very little about the man hidden behind the many titles and masks. Granted, as time went on, he felt more like an employee to his father’s brand than a son. Gabriel’s own expectations toward his son created more distance between them in the end, even though Adrien tries so desperately to close that distance. Nothing but disappointments and sadness in the end, because even if he met those expectations, even if he lived up to the image of perfection his father coveted so badly for his child, Adrien knew well enough that he wasn’t perfect. He was human. Even perfection can’t jump into space without needing air.
Time passes slowly in the mansion as Adrien jots down different notes. The group chat sent part of what was missed in Mlle. Bustier’s class after it was completed. He’ll probably get the homework from her class and Mlle. Mendeleev after everything was finished. When time rolls around, past 10:00, he leaves the bedroom, ushering Plagg to hide in his jacket just in case someone gets akumatized. As he goes down the steps, he stares at the workers idly moving boxes to and fro, like worker bees carrying pollen to a hive. Gorilla had six boxes in his large, beefy arms. Nathalie was standing by the door to her room, supported by her cane. She was in different clothes, more casual than Adrien normally sees her in; a pair of designer jeans and a band tee of some sort that was unfamiliar to Adrien. Her hair was also fixed back into its usual, tightly wound bun.
“Set the boxes down gently, leave the taller ones outside, out of the way for now.” She directs the men to where she wants the things. “Oh, Adrien. Come here, please.” She ushers the boy to follow her to the bedroom, where there was a single box already open. He couldn’t see what was inside. He sits at the foot of the bed, where another box was by, on the floor, having yet to be opened. He turned it to see if there was anything to label what could be inside. Nothing.
“I’m not too surprised that they forgot to label some of these boxes. Everything was packed in a hurry.” She looks in the opened box to find that there were some clothes inside. She pulled out a tee-shirt. Another band he couldn’t recognize. It was black, and it had a triangle in the center of it with a rainbow beam shooting through it. It reminded Adrien of Marinette’s grandmother for some reason…
“How many boxes did they pack?” He asks.
“I’m not sure. I had to get everything out of my apartment, so they also packed a lot of furniture. Gabriel already bought a storage unit for that.” She folds the shirt and takes another one out, also folding it. “Start going through the boxes. Like, uh. That one by your foot.” She points to the box on the floor, next to the foot of the bed. Adrien nods, then grabs a pair of scissors and tears through the packing tape. He opens the box, finding what looked like a bunch of vinyl records. The cover of the record looked vaguely familiar, similar to the shirt that Nathalie had pulled out from her box. There were more records inside, all from the same artist until he hit the bottom, then there was another record from a different artist. The cover looked worn, and there was even a signature on the back.
“What’s all these records?” Nathalie sets another shirt down before going over to inspect the covers. There was a look on her face. Adrien couldn’t quite read what her mood was. He couldn’t tell if she was happy or sad seeing these records unearthed again. She takes the record Adrien was holding, staring at the signature on the back.
“These belonged to my father. We used to listen to these records all the time when I was growing up. He got them whenever these bands would go on tour. This one here, was the first vinyl he was able to get. He was lucky he was even able to get it signed by the lead singer.”
The marker writing seemed to have faded from age, since Adrien couldn’t make out anything other than a couple names. He could make out a “Buck” and a "Lucien,” but that was about all he could see. Nathalie still looked at the cover with fondness before setting it down beside the other records on the bed, going back to handle the clothes.
“Who was your father?” Adrien asks while sorting the records back in order, stacking them on the bed.
“Lucien Sancoeur. He was a private investigator that helped the police in both Paris and Versailles take on cold cases. They were mostly drug related and he had a hand in breaking apart a few crime organizations. He was well acclaimed for a time, especially when violent crime was more of a problem in Paris when it wasn’t caused by supervillains.” She starts moving the clothes over to a drawer by her closet before going to another box. The movers continued bringing in boxes to and fro, some heavier than others.
“Do you ever talk with him, Nathalie?” Her countenance went dark all of a sudden as she opened another box. There were nothing but some posters inside. She didn’t seem to react upon seeing them. Adrien frowns. Did he do something wrong?
“He’s dead.” She answers simply.
“Oh… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.” She sighs, but smiles again, taking out one of the posters.
“It’s alright, Adrien. You didn’t know.”
“What happened to him?” He asks.
“He was murdered. They never found his killer, so the case has been left unsolved for sixteen years. Rather ironic, isn’t it? He made a career out of solving cold cases only to end up being a cold case himself.” Adrien didn’t say anything in response, deciding not to ask too many questions. He went to open another box sitting by the door. This one was marked “Books.” Seems like there were some books Nathalie had even at her old apartment that she never brought to the manor until now.
He didn’t expect to find notebooks and binders inside in place of novels, atlases, or history books.
While she continues digging through the other boxes, curiosity takes over, and Adrien begins looking through the first notebook he finds. It was spiral bound, with a lavender cover. It looked like a pencil wore someone’s name on the outside of the cover, and he could trace the outline of flower petals faintly seen through the faded graphite marks on its surface. He opens the journal to the first page. There was a date on the top: June 13th, 1991. This entry was from the early 90’s. Was it Nathalie’s personal journal from back then? How old would she have been?
Adrien flips through the pages some more, landing on one at random in the middle of the book. A photograph falls out. He sets the book on the nightstand, still open, picking up the picture. His eyes widen at what he sees: the picture was of Nathalie and some teenage boy! She looked so young. Even younger than she looks now, if that was even possible. Honestly, if it weren’t for the dark hair, pale skin, and blue eyes, he wasn’t sure if he would have even recognized her. She was wearing some sort of leather jacket with a pair of buttons on her left side. Her hair was shorter than it was now, cut about to the tops of her shoulders in a sort of messy bob. It was accented by two, vibrant colored streaks: a red one on her left side and a purple one on the right. She was wearing one of those band shirts, something with a weird cross that had a hook on it. Her jeans were also torn. He was only able to see three-quarters of their bodies. Who could have taken this picture?
Who was the boy standing next to Nathalie? Adrien examines him closely. He has short, messy, sandy blonde hair. The blue-gray eyes were also familiar. He was also about a head or more taller than Nathalie. He was smiling, but his posture was reserved, with his arms behind his back as if he was uncomfortable with having his picture taken. He was also dressed rather nicely, with a tan vest over a sallow blue polo shirt and khakis. Why did he look so familiar…?
“What are you looking at, Adrien?” Nathalie asks. He jumps, having forgotten what he was even there for in the first place. He smiles a sheepish grin and hands her the photograph.
“This fell out of a notebook I found in one of the boxes. I know that’s you on the left, but who’s that boy on the right?” When she takes the picture, she examines it for a while. A soft gasp escapes her lips before a soft chuckle followed, dissolving into a small fit of giggles.
“Dear god, I didn’t know I still had that picture. Feels like it’s been ages since I’ve seen it.”
“Who’s the boy on the right side?”
“You didn’t recognize him? Go on, take a guess.”
“I… I guess the blonde hair is familiar, and so were the eyes…? Wait a minute…” Who else had blonde hair and gray eyes? Didn’t Gabriel have blonde hair before he started to go gray…? Realization hit Adrien in the face, and he too started laughing. Surely that wasn’t his father. Right?
“You’re kidding? That’s Father on the right side?” Nathalie nods, which elicits another choked laugh from Adrien. “Oh my god, but he looks so… so young! It’s so weird!” She hands him the picture again, and when he looks closer at it, he couldn’t deny the similarities. His jaw was softer, and there was the widow’s peak. Huh. He didn’t realize just how similar he looked to his father until now. They had the same build, only Gabriel was just taller, their hair both appeared to have that messy sort of spikiness, and their noses were the same. How odd.
How long have they known each other? Maybe there were photos of them together when they were even younger. Adrien was tempted to ask, but instead picks the notebook up while Nathalie takes out one of the binders.
“How old were you in that picture? Who took it?”
“I was fifteen in that picture. I want to say my mother was the one that took it, but I can’t remember.”
Nathalie hums as she flips through the plastic sleeved pages filled with myriads of photographs. The sleeves were double sided, so there was no telling what the dates on the pictures even were, but there were some that were clearly older than others. She sighs wistfully as she looks at one of the pages, filled with pictures of what could only be members of her family. There was one picture with Nathalie standing next to a younger girl. She had rusty, reddish-brown hair and vibrant green eyes. The girls looked similar: they both wore glasses and had that signature strand of hair smack dab in the middle of their eyes. Nathalie was taller and had a slimmer build, however. They were standing next to each other, making silly faces, while there was a middle aged man laughing in the background beside a woman with long, vibrant red hair. She also had that sliver of hair. The man was the only one that didn’t.
“The girl beside me,” Nathalie points to the young girl standing next to her. “That’s my younger sister. The woman with the long, red hair,” She points at the woman. “That’s my mother. The man laughing beside her is my father.”
“When was that taken?” Nathalie shrugs.
“I’m not sure. I want to say that it was taken on their fifteenth wedding anniversary. They married right before I was born, because if I remember what Maman told me correctly, I was born on the second night of their honeymoon. I would say that’s quite the wedding gift, having your first child born only two days after you tie the knot.” She flips to another page of photos that looked like a birthday party was taking place. It didn’t look grand or extravagant, but there were a couple girls there close to her age. They looked very familiar, especially the redheaded one with the strand of hair dangling in her face. Wait…
“Is that Mlle. Bustier? Right there, by the cake??” Nathalie giggles, nodding in affirmation to the boy’s question. It was so funny to see his reactions upon discovering what the adults he had in his life looked like when they were teenagers. It’s like he couldn’t imagine seeing them so young.
“Yes, that’s Caline, and the other girl is Nadja. We all went to the same school when we were young. I was the oldest in our friend group, so I was always a year ahead of them in college and lycee. They were fortunate enough to have each other in the same classes.”
… Wow. No wonder Nathalie was able to get into contact with Mlle. Bustier so easily.
“Did they know Father too?”
“Not very well. Gabriel was two years older than me. I’m two years older than Caline. The only time they saw him was outside of school.”
“Why did you stop talking to them?” Nathalie shrugs.
“Work gets busy for all of us, Adrien. I have to help your father run the company, Caline has to teach, and Nadja’s broadcasting the news. It’d be different if we weren’t always so busy.” She flips to some pages further in the back. As the album filled up, there were more photographs of Nathalie with Gabriel. She looks at the old photo Adrien handed her for a moment before handing it back to him. She shuts the binder and sets it back in the box before going to handle something else.
“You’re welcome to keep that, Adrien.”
“Wait!” She stops in her tracks and looks at the boy, confused. “I… I want to know when you met Father, if that’s alright.”
“Adrien, we’ve wasted too much time already. We need to sort through as much as we can today and get it moved into storage. We’re behind.”
“You can tell me after we get back on task! I’m sorry, I just got a little curious after seeing everything. I didn’t know you had all of these records, and I don’t think I would have guessed that you and Father have known each other since you were my age. I barely know anything about you, and I just want to get to know you better. Father won’t tell me anything about him, so, I figured you were the next best person I could talk to since you’ve always been around. I see you as a part of our family, Nathalie… I just wanted us to be closer.” He picks up another box and goes through it. It looked like there was a small, worn out record player inside. There wasn’t a label on this one. Why were so many of these not labeled?
Nathalie watches as Adrien goes through the different boxes. She sorts through more clothes, which were mislabeled and ends up finding a few cassette tapes inside. She sighs, organizing the clothes and the tapes into their own piles before coming back to Adrien and resting a hand on his shoulder.
“It’s alright. I’ll be happy to tell you how we met, if you want to start from there.” Adrien’s eyes lit up like fireworks. They were glowing with excitement from those words.
“Really?! O–Of course! Let’s get these boxes sorted some more then!” He sprints outside to pick up some by the door. Nathalie couldn’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm. It was nice seeing him so happy, even if it was just over some old stories.
Still.
As she looks through the different items that were left behind over the years, she couldn’t help but let her mind wander down memory lane. Seeing those photographs… Seeing those pictures of her family… So happy, so warm. So whole. They were all together, and they enjoyed each other’s company. It was bittersweet seeing the photographs again after so long, seeing those pictures of her father when he was still around. She missed him. She missed them all, dearly. Everything brought back from the apartment was things left in the past, items that she hadn’t seen in well over a decade. The posters, the old vinyl records, the tee-shirts that smelled faintly of dust, old cologne, sweaty leather, and a faint smell of perfumes. No one could blame her for the heavy feelings of nostalgia when so much of the past was unearthed all at once.
She just wished it didn’t weigh so, so heavy on the heart.
As Adrien carried more boxes in the room, while the movers and Gorilla handled the heavier items, she picked up a shirt from the clothes pile. It was the one with the rainbow beam, showing through like it were a prism. Maybe she could try it on, for old time’s sake…
Nathalie goes into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. She takes off the red turtleneck that had become a part of her ensemble of clothes to the point that it was a second skin. She throws the black band tee on, smoothing out the wrinkles and admiring how she appeared in the mirror. Somehow, it was still able to fit alright. The only things that really seemed to be different were her height and her bust, but the sleeves did feel a little snug on her shoulders. Weight was never a problem for Nathalie, although she was sure if she had to stretch, her stomach might show a little from the garment trying to ride up. She smiled nonetheless, happy that she could take a walk through memory lane. She walks out of the bathroom to see Adrien sorting through some more things. He made marks on what was in each of the boxes, moving what was mislabeled into their own spaces. It was an effective system to take care of the different items, making it easier to decide which boxes were going to stay in her room and move to the attic later. She glances at the clothes piled by two of the boxes. She’ll have to try them on at a later date to see which ones fit and which ones could be donated. That had to wait for another day.
“You changed shirts?” Adrien asks.
“Oh. Yes, I did. I just wanted to try it on, to see if it still fit. It’s a little tight on the shoulders.” She sits down at the foot of the bed and motions for him to join her. He complies, setting down a box filled with some shoes. He forgot some of the records were still on the bed, which led to him sitting on one for a split second. He studies the cover of the vinyl and then Nathalie’s shirt. Both were merchandise by “Pink Floyd.” Both were branded with the “Dark Side of the Moon” moniker.
“You have a lot of those Pink Floyd records.”
“They were one of my favorite bands when I was young. These records were used to belong to my father before he gave them to me on my birthday.” Adrien sets the record aside.
“Are we taking a break?” Nathalie nods.
“I think we’ve caught up enough with these. It’s just the heavy things that need to be sorted now. Could you grab the journal?”
“Sure, but what does this have to do with the story?” He grabs the journal from where the picture of his father and Nathalie fell out. Nathalie takes the book away and flips to another page, around ten pages back from where the picture fell out from. She flips one more time, reading the date closely. September 20th, 1991. This was the right page.
“I remember the day I met Gabriel because of the poem I wrote that day. When I was younger, there was a time in my life I wanted to be a songwriter.”
“Really? Why didn’t you ever go through with it? Maybe you could have been able to collaborate with Jagged on a song!” Nathalie laughs. Her? Write for Jagged? If only he knew, at one point in time, that idea wasn’t so far fetched. It was a sweet thought, if a bit naive. The boy’s optimism was one of her favorite traits about Adrien.
Nathalie shrugs. “Writing can be… Hit or miss. The music industry and fashion industries are pretty similar in that you have to know someone very influential in both in order to even get a foot on that ladder. I thought it was more sensible to get a degree in business or history, so I had some options for my career whenever I graduated. I miss writing sometimes. Poetry was always cathartic for me.”
“What was your poem about?” Adrien asks. Nathalie looks at the page, scanning the words like they were some sort of cryptic code. She could hear her inner voice in the back of her mind, all those years ago, murmuring the words as the graphite from the pencil scratched along the page, forming those lines, those stanzas. The image came to mind: a young man, sitting by lonesome, and as the memory flowed back like the calm waters of the Seine, a gentle smile curled at the ends of her lips.
“Why don’t I read it to you? Maybe you can make your own meaning from it.”
“Sure! I was hoping you would.”
She nods. For a moment she closes her eyes, opening them again. It was as if she was performing her own reading, but it was only to the son of her closest friend. There was no need to be nervous. She sighs, then starts to read.
“I see him everyday
But I say nothing and let the day drift away
The river flows in a straight line
Cars drive along, and people pass
And yet, like clockwork, he comes at the same time
He sits
Staring off, into nowhere
Holding that big red book
I wonder what hides inside
A treasure trove of drawings, paintings of the city?
Sketches of animals, like the birds that nest in the trees?
Or something obscene, like women barer than a young babe
He sits
He buries his nose in that big red book
What I’d give for just a look
I see him everyday
But I say nothing, and let the day drift away
Like clockwork, he leaves
As ephemeral as the midsummer breeze
And for a moment I catch his face
Twisted in a grimace, scowling
Some days there are tears
He never wishes to leave
This boy by the Seine
What I’d give for just a look
Maybe I’ll find what’s inside that big red book”
September 20th, 1991
The end of summer. School has just started, which meant the end for long days at home with a nose buried in her notebooks and novels. Well… School had been back for two weeks. And she already wished she was at home. That was rather well evident from where she was sitting, cross legged in a chair with a heated glare at the man scribbling away at his desk.
Nathalie hated the Lycee. If she wasn’t getting dogged at for the streaks in her hair violating the dress code because they had to wear these generic uniforms, she was either in an argument with one of the teachers about where she should be or whether or not she even made it to class. The new principal, M. Monet, wasn't the sharpest tool. That had been evident from day one, when he came to speak to all of the older students, including the terminale students. All this rot about how they were the future of Paris, all this nonsense about the expectations they had to be functioning members of society. It was all hot air blowing out of his ass in an effort to make himself look better than he really was. Nathalie Sancoeur does not listen to idiots.
Quite a shame that she had to be sitting in the same room as that very idiot.
Once the ass finished writing whatever it was he was writing, he set the paper aside to set his arms on the desk, looking at her like he was some sort of doctor trying to diagnose a patient. He was an older man, balding at the top of his head with snow white hair. Fat too. She could faintly smell cigar smoke off his jacket. He had brown eyes, big brown almond shaped eyes that could make him look like a kicked puppy if he had big floppy ears.
Difference between him and a kicked puppy was that she felt sorry for the puppy.
“Mlle. Sancoeur,” Drawled the old man. “This is the second time this week you’ve been called into my office for truancy. I’ll have to call your mother and suspend you for three days. You don’t need to miss three days of class when you haven’t even been back for a week.” Nathalie doesn’t say anything, slumping back in the chair with a blase, nonchalant attitude. She didn’t seem to be too concerned. Monet was just blowing more hot air.
“Mlle. Sancoeur, do you not understand what I’m telling you? Your teachers aren’t pleased with this behavior. There’s no reason for you to skip class when we haven’t even been back for two weeks! Why are you so insistent on not following the rules?” The only answer he got was an eye roll, which was grounding the man’s patience. He grits his teeth and slams his fist on the table. Nathalie gives him a side-eye. It was acknowledgement at least, but he wasn’t going to let this girl psych him out. He was the principal, for god’s sake! He sighs, crossing his arms, and sinking back in his seat.
“Alright. Why do you keep skipping class? I’m sure you’re aware that we have policies in place for repeated truancy.”
“Because it’s a waste of time.” She bites out, which leads to a deep scowl. She would have laughed if the situation were different. Principal Monet looked like a redhound with sagging jowls all the way down to his chin whenever he made that face. She could see a rise in his chest as he took a deep breath to calm his nerves at Nathalie’s impudence.
“Okay… How is it a waste of time?”
“Because I’m not learning anything in those classes. I already know everything that they’re teaching.” Monet raises an eyebrow, very doubtful that this student was really telling the truth, but something never added up with her. She always misses class, yet on the first tests she’s taken this year, she scored some of the highest marks. It could always be chalked down to simple cheating, but if that was the case, then why could they never find any notes? Even classes that would prove to be tougher on students, such as English or Algebra were no problem for Nathalie.
“What would make you come to class, if you’re so insistent on believing that it’s a waste of your precious time?” The corners of Nathalie’s mouth curled into a smirk despite the condescending tone of voice the old man was giving her.
“Funny you should ask… I want to go into the accelerated education program. There’s more work, sure, but it’s also a challenge. I can keep making high marks, actually learn something, and I can take the bac exams a year ahead of schedule. It’s a sweet deal. I’d be an idiot not to try and take advantage of it.”
“WHAT?!” Monet slams his hands on the table and rises from his seat. “Why should I allow this?! That program is only for top students, model students! I refuse to allow such… Such insolent rabble into that program! I should suspend you for the audacity!”
“Then you’re a fucking hypocrite.” She rolls her eyes. “I’ve had perfect marks since maternelle. I can handle the work. Some of these nimrods that are part of the program end up leaving because they can’t handle the work. They start cutting class more than I do! And you call them model students?”
“A model student doesn’t use such language when addressing their principal!”
“Your definition of ‘ model student’ and mine aren’t the same, M. Monet. The only reasons I don’t fit into that definition in your eyes is because I don’t care to follow the orders of a teacher that can’t teach, I don’t follow your stupid little dress code, and I actually have the balls to say what I mean and say how I really feel in regards to being around some pig-headed idiot that wants to waste my time that I could be spending doing my homework. I don’t like any of that lot except M. Blanchet. He can teach. But that’s beside the point.”
“WHAT POINT IS THERE TO MAKE?! YOU’RE HERE BECAUSE YOU KEEP MISSING CLASS, YOU KEEP DISRESPECTING AND DISOBEYING YOUR TEACHERS. I’M NOT ALLOWING A DELINQUENT TO BE AROUND THE TOP PERFORMING STUDENTS IN OUR SCHOOL! YOU’LL BRING THEIR PERFORMANCE DOWN WITH YOUR INFLUENCE!”
“That you’re an idiot. That you care only about the guise of what makes a student good rather than look at the work they’re willing to do. I will get into that program whether you want me to or not. I know and understand what I would be getting into, because that’s what I want. Make your choice. If you want to bring my mother into this, as well, so be it,” She gets up out of the chair and picks up her school bag.
“You are not leaving this office! I will call your mother, and perhaps we can curb these patterns of disobedience!” That threat didn’t faze Nathalie. She narrows her eyes and huffs, throwing the bag over her shoulder. She opens the door.
“You’ve wasted enough of my time. I’ve presented my terms, and you don’t wish to listen. Call my mother. She’s going to be more annoyed that you’re wasting her time telling her that I’m skipping classes that I’m not even supposed to be in. I suggest you rectify that mistake, M. Monet. Because I don’t like having to repeat myself over and over again.” Nathalie walks out, leaving Monet fuming in his chair. He can get over himself. She didn’t care if he ended up having an aneurysm because she talked back to him. Maybe the school board would replace him with someone more competent.
Nathalie was sure after that little stunt of talking back to the principal that she would be suspended for sure. She didn’t care. She had better things to do than sit in class listening to the same, boring dribble about Napoleon or some other figure from history she already knew about and cared nothing for. She travels down the halls, trying to find the bathrooms. She passes by a clock hanging by the door to one of the science labs. It read 1:21. She would normally be in her history class by now. In her mind, she was now suspended for three days, maybe even four. It was a lot of work to catch up with once she returns, but she didn’t care.
She just wanted to be out of there.
She loops around a corridor, going four doors down til she comes upon a sign on her left side for one of the women’s restrooms. There wasn’t anyone in any of the stalls, fortunately. She could change in peace, though she probably would have preferred somewhere a little cleaner. She grimaced, pulling up her shirt over her nose for a moment before heading towards the mirror and pulling out a small vial of perfume. It’d probably just mask the smell, but she’d rather smell vanilla cake than piss. She spritzes a little bit, tucking the vial back in her bag before pulling out a pair of torn jeans. She looked around to see if anyone was coming before kicking off her flats and stripping off the blue khaki skirt that came customary as one of the only bottoms options for what fit into the “dress code.” It wasn’t the first time that she was changing in the bathroom, having to keep her eyes and ears open for a student or a teacher coming in to do their business. She hated wearing the uniforms and wanted to be out of them as soon as possible. She was quick to hide whenever someone came in, taking her things and running, sometimes with her pants still around her ankles. She’s even had to stand on the toilet more than once to keep from getting discovered when she’s skipping class.
Thankfully, she didn’t have to go through that, getting her clothes on without having to hide in the bathroom stall. It made going home more of a cinch. She straightened her shirt out in the mirror, smoothing out the wrinkles and checking her appearance. Everything was in order, and she was finally out of that stuffy outfit.
There was a route she always took to avoid getting spotted by hall monitors, cameras, or teachers that were on break. She loops back from the bathroom, backtracking her steps until she came down a hall that had but a few classes each day. The windows in the doors were always covered, and the cameras never worked. She was able to walk out without any nosy eyes or nagging busybodies trying to get into her business.
Nathalie takes a deep breath as she exits the school. Her mood always improved considerably when she wasn’t in that building, elbow to elbow with a bunch of people she’d rather not see again, having to listen to mundane and boring affairs like the “love triangle” that one student was trapped in, drama about a guy sleeping with his girlfriend. The upper grades of lycee were a mess. Or maybe it was just the people that went to school with her. She couldn’t care less.
She walked further down the road, nodding with a smile at some of the Parisians she passed by. Even with the striking, vibrant streaks of red and purple in her wavy black hair and the rebellious rocker attire that she wore, she blended with the crowd, and no one paid her any mind. She was taller than most girls her age, taller than most women at 175 centimeters. It made her look older than what she was, though most people get mixed signals thanks to the nonexistent wrinkles and softness to her face and the lithe slimness to her figure.
She stops at a cheap burger place. Seeing as the mess with M. Monet ate away her lunch break, she decided to go in. At least it was something that was cheap and pretty good most of the time. There weren't many people, business was slow, no doubt because people were either at work or at school. She could smell the hot grease cooking French fries as walks further inside. There were only a couple tables with customers, one with a middle aged man that looked like he worked in construction, and another with an old married couple sitting by the window. A jukebox was playing some French rock. She sets her bag down in one of the booth seats to grab a few euros from her wallet before throwing it back over her shoulder. There was a young man working the cash register, about in his early twenties. Probably working part-time, and he really didn’t look like he wanted to be here.
“Can I take your order?”
“I just want a cheeseburger with a large fry. Hold the pickles and the onions.”
“Any condiments?”
“Just ketchup.”
“For here or to go?”
“To go.” The young man nods, writes everything down, and sticks the order ticket for the cook to take care of.
“That’ll be twelve euros.” Nathalie hands the money over. She raises a brow when she realizes that the cashier was staring at her. It made her feel uneasy. She hated being watched.
“Shouldn’t you be in school?”
Oh right. The schoolbag. She should have left it in that booth, but would it have done any good? Nathalie raises an eyebrow at the cashier, which didn’t gauge much of a response out of him. If anything, he kept staring at her with a deadpan face.
“Why do you ask?”
“You’re literally carrying a backpack, kid. You’re gonna get in trouble with the police. Go back to school.”
Nathalie sighs. She could tell this guy was just patronizing her, because his expression hadn’t changed at all since she’s spoken with him. His voice barely changed in inflection or tone. She knew he couldn’t care less about her, he was just trying to look “concerned” seeing as that elderly couple was there, looking at him before going back to their meal. Damn busybodies.
“I’m sure you’ve had a rough day, but let me ask you something.” His expression doesn’t change, but he crosses his arms like he wanted to humor her in the event she was about to ask him out on a date. There was a sweetness to her voice, but it was all a fake out. A ploy to get his attention. “Do you know what makes someone smart?”
“I don’t know what this has to do with anything.” He replies with a shrug.
“Smart people prioritize two things in everyday interactions: knowing what questions to ask and when to ask them. A smart person also knows not to assume that someone’s in school just because they’re carrying a backpack. There could be a gun, a bat, anything that they could use to rob a store. Or they could be a simple tourist from the States or across the channel, visiting Paris because they want to see the Eiffel Tower or the Arc de Triomphe,” The waiter stares at her, slack-jawed, completely ignoring the sound of a bell and the cook’s voice echoing for someone to get Nathalie’s order. A waitress eventually takes it to the counter, and with a smile, she picks up the bag.
“Don’t make an ass out of yourself by assuming shit you don’t know about a stranger. You’d do well to remember that.” With those last words, she walks away, carrying her school bag on her shoulder and the hamburger bag in her left hand. She would eat while on her little walk, but it’d probably be smarter to find somewhere to sit down and eat. Home was several blocks further down in the opposite direction. The Seine was closer. That was where she was going anyway.
Taking a walk was always nice, even if she had to smell the exhaust fumes of cars stuck in traffic while she bounded along the sidewalks and crosswalks, taking in the sights of the buildings as she made it closer to the Seine river. How far away was she from the Eiffel Tower? Or even the Louvre? She’d love to take some pictures or write a poem while in both sometime.
She eventually comes up upon the Seine, walking down close to her usual space, by a sapling that was planted to make the sight look nicer. It wasn’t uncommon to see a bunch of pigeons frequenting the area, looking for food. There were signs that even said not to feed them. Most of the time, she left them alone, and ate whatever she had in peace, sitting against the tree. It was better that people left them alone anyway, they’d forget how to find food on their own.
Nathalie sits down at her usual space and takes out her lavender notebook. Though there were cars passing by, she paid them no mind, as the humming of the motors dissipated into gentle silence. Even the smell of the exhaust started to go away as she sat in her personal bubble. She loved it here. It may have been a public place, and people may have walked along the banks all the time, but there was something peaceful about the sound of the water, calmly drifting by. She opens the book and begins to write, having a nice flow to her thoughts. She looks across the river. She could see the Eiffel Tower in the distance, the beacon to the city. Her city. Despite the idiotic teachers at the lycee, and despite having her and her mother’s request to be in the accelerated education program ignored, there was nowhere she would rather be in the world. Everything was fine.
And then, as she takes her eyes off the pages of her notebook for one second, she sees him.
The boy by the Seine.
Nathalie didn’t know his name. Didn’t know what school he went to or if he even went to school at all. All she knew was his face, in brief moments that she watches him when he leaves that same spot, everyday, usually at 4:30. Sometimes it’s 5:00. It was always around the same interval of time. She could predict when he’d arrive if she was there first, and it was usually around 1:00. Honestly, it was a little creepy. Maybe she was coming here too much.
The ritualistic cycle started around the first day of school. After she was coming home from school, she sits down by the river to think and write a little. That was the first time she saw him, sitting by his lonesome, with a big red book clutched in his arms. She didn’t think anything of it that day, didn’t think much of it for the next few days after that. Sometimes she would come on the weekends, early in the morning, and he would be there. Sometimes she would leave for a few hours and return. He would still be there. She noticed he stayed longer on the weekends.
He always came there . He was always here at the same time. When he would leave before her, she noticed that he was always upset, as if he was dreading the thought of going back home. Nathalie never understood why that was. She never spoke to him before. She always just. Watched. Watched from afar as the hours ticked by and the river flowed along. She wonders, thinks, and wonders some more, always having more questions than answers.
She was better taking her own advice. She didn’t know this guy. What if he was just some crazy person just one word away from snapping and killing someone? She could always leave well enough alone and let him sketch away in that big red book in peace. She could continue writing in her journal, leave, and return. The status quo wouldn’t change. It’d just be the same old same old that she’s grown accustomed to in the two weeks she had returned to school.
Problem was, Nathalie didn’t want to keep following the status quo.
She takes her journal and walks over next to the boy, making sure to have a small berth of distance between them. She made sure not to stare too much, but she couldn’t help but note the guarded, hunched posture. The sketchbook rested on his knees. He was very focused on what he was sketching, but she couldn’t make out what it was, due to the angle he held the book, further obscured by his arm which was diligently sketching away. She tries to take a closer look, not paying attention that her hand wound up on his shoulder.
“What are you doing?!” He jolted upright, clutching the book in his arms in a death grip, and he was NOT about to let go. Now that she was seeing him up close, she never realized just how tall he was… He had to have been around 195 centimeters tall.
“You have ten seconds or I’m going to call the police.” He had a fairly deep voice, but she could tell that it was still developing. She could hear it crack when she startled him. She stands upright, holding her own book with a deadpan look on her face. She doubted the sincerity of his words. After all, he couldn’t have been much older than she was. Shouldn’t he be in school too?
“I doubt you’re going to do that.” He raises an eyebrow at her words, and she notices his grip on the book tighten. He was probably just scared, trying to throw up a farce with an assertive tone to his voice.
“What makes you say that?”
“Your voice wavered. And maybe I’m making assumptions, but those clothes,” She gestures to his outfit. He was wearing a short sleeved polo and tan khaki pants. It looked awfully similar to the uniforms the boys had to wear at her school. “Look like the uniforms worn at Lycee Henri-IV. I’d wager that you were some student that got tired of all the bullshit and wanted to leave. Am I right?” His glare darkened. She could see him bite the inside of his cheek, ready to defend himself and call out this stranger for lying… But that fire burned out as quickly as it ignited. He sighs, going back to the spot he was sitting at earlier. Nathalie was confused. What the hell was that about?
“Hey, did I say something…?”
“Out of everyone that could have found me, it had to be someone else from that damn school. Can you just leave me alone? Report me to the principal. Get me expelled.”
“I’d be the wrong person to report you, trust me.” She shrugs. “I got suspended today for too many truancies. And talking back to the principal.” She sits down at the same spot she was before she ended up startling the boy. Neither of them said anything for a while, drawing and writing in their respective books. Nathalie didn’t like the silence. Tension was heavy in the air, and though she wasn’t even a meter away from him, it felt like there was a wall, several meters thick between the two of them. She sighs. She didn’t mean any harm.
“Hey… Look, I’m sorry for scaring you, alright?”
“You didn’t scare me. You just… Surprised me. That’s all.”
“Really?” She quirks an eyebrow, smirking just a little. “By how fast you bolted up when my hand ended up on your shoulder, I’d think otherwise.” He rolled his eyes at the remark.
“I don’t like getting touched. Especially by a stranger.”
“Well,” She tucks her pencil in the metal loops of her notebook, setting it aside as she scoots over to her left, just a little. He looks at her, closing his book and hugging it close to his chest again. Nathalie holds out her hand for a handshake. The boy withdraws with a grimace.
“My name’s Nathalie. If you tell me yours, maybe we won’t be strangers.”
He didn’t react for a while, staring at her hand as if there was some sort of contagious, festering infection on the palm. Of course, that was far from the case, but he couldn’t bring himself to take it. She raises a brow, looking at him to say “don’t leave me hanging here.” He sighs, setting his sketchbook down on his knees, finally taking it in a handshake.
“Gabriel Agreste.” A small smile curls on Nathalie’s lips. She finally knew his name.
“It’s nice to meet you, Gabriel. So… Why did you come here? Or well, why do you come here? Aren’t you afraid that someone would report you?”
“It’s always a thought in the back of my mind, but no one has. Not yet, anyway. I come here to think,” He looks away, looking across the bank. He closes his eyes, much like she did before she started writing. Thing is, she felt something different when she came here. Bliss. Calmness. Like everything was content and right with the world. She couldn’t read that with Gabriel. In fact, there was a look of longing on his face, a feeling of yearning for something that could never be attained by any normal means, but rather divine intervention. There wasn’t even a spark of hope in his eyes. How could someone that probably wasn’t even eighteen have such feelings of hopelessness? Heaven only knows.
“The river is a public place, but no one really bothers me. I can hide in plain sight, and no one is none the wiser of who I am or where I should be. I can draw in peace, and the atmosphere helps fuel my muse.”
“Sounds like me.” He hums, looking at her with curiosity, wondering what she meant. “I come here to think too. I like how the river flows, and in the heat of the moment, you just… Get enthralled by what you’re doing. You don’t hear anything but your own thoughts and the sound of the river. I can write for hours and it feels like minutes have passed. Do you ever get like that with your drawings? I think it’s a special kind of bliss, especially when you enjoy what you’re doing.”
Gabriel smiles, but there was no energy or real mirth in it. The more she kept looking at his face, the more she noticed how tired he looked. There were faint dark circles underneath his large, blue-gray eyes. Even with a smile, his countenance looked so… Grim. Dour. He looked older than what he probably was. One could only wonder what could make someone world-weary when they were still a teenager. She was tempted to ask, but that wasn’t her place. She’s only known him for a few minutes.
“I can’t afford to get sucked into my drawings. I have to keep an eye on the clock, always. Otherwise, I would never hear the end of it and I’d have someone sent after me by my parents. I’d rather not have to go through that.”
“Why would they send someone after you?”
“My… Mother is uh. Protective. I’ve had to take a few self defense classes over the summer and she plans to make me sign up for fencing again.” Nathalie raises a brow, not fully sure if she could believe that.
“How old are you? Are you sure she’s not just worrying too much? My mom lets me go out until 7:00 on school nights, even later on the weekends, and I’m only fifteen.”
“I’m seventeen. She’s always been like that, though. Would you believe me if I told you that this was my first year enrolled in a public school?”
“Really?” Gabriel nods. “So what were you doing since maternelle? Were you homeschooled or something?”
“For a time. I was in and out of Catholic schools because of… Complications. I’d rather not talk about it.”
“Fair enough.” And neither one really said much for a while. Nathalie looks at her journal. The next page was blank. The one before it was a poem she wrote before she looked up to see Gabriel, sketching away in his big red sketchbook. She looks at the page, then back at Gabriel. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt anything if she wrote another one. Maybe she could share it with him later, if they ever spoke again.
“Hey… I’ve always wondered something.” He looks at her, closing his sketchbook, though he kept the thumb of his left hand tucked inside, saving the page that he was working on. “I hope you don’t think I’m a creep for saying this, but… I’ve seen you sit here. Every single day that I come here to think. I always see you by yourself, never talking to anyone, never with anyone else. Doesn’t that ever get lonely? Even a little? I mean… I’m always by myself when I come here, but that’s ‘cause I don’t want to get my sister or any of my friends in trouble when I decide to cut class. I’d rather be the one to dig myself in a hole than let someone else fall in it.”
He had to process her words, staring at his book and then the river. He never really thought about someone sitting with him before. Truth be told, he didn’t really think he was that lonely. There was never any company he considered “pleasant” that was able to come with him here, because he didn’t want to bury them in a hole, where the only things awaiting them were pressure and far more trouble than what was worth it. After being by himself, even for these few weeks, he just grew accustomed to the solitude. He didn’t mind it.
But it does get lonely. That much he didn’t realize until today.
He sighs, running a hand through sandy blonde locks, pushing them out of his face. “I never really thought about it as being lonely. Rather… I thought about it as trying to prioritize how much time I could spend and how much I could finish while I’m out here. If someone was with me, it’d just be a distraction.”
“Is that all you see company as? A distraction? Can’t you just draw at home? I don’t think having your back hunched over like that is healthy, and doesn’t holding your book on your knees get uncomfortable after a while?”
“Then that’s just what I’ll deal with. I’m not drawing at my house.”
“Why not?”
“None of your business.” Gabriel snipes, glaring at her over the nagging, intrusive questions. She raises her hands up and rolls her eyes, clearly displeased by the defensive remark.
“Ok, sorry I asked. No need to be an ass about it.”
The look on his face soon softens. He didn’t mean to snap over the question. It wasn’t like she meant to pry, right? She wouldn’t have known anything, hell, they just met. Still… The conversation has been one of the nicest he’s had outside of the brief talks he has with his brother, back home when neither of their parents were around to spoil it all. Maybe this girl wasn’t so bad.
“A distraction isn’t necessarily a bad thing though,” Gabriel sets the sketchbook aside, tucking the pencil in one of the pockets of his pants. “You’re right. It does get lonely sometimes. I try to ignore it by throwing myself in my drawings, but I can never fully lose myself in the moment because I have to make sure I leave at 4:30, or else my family would get suspicious over where I am. It’s nerve wracking. Some days I can’t even focus because all I can think about is the damn clock and when the time will tick to 4:30. I’d rather not think about it at all, if I had to be honest.”
Living by a clock and dreading whenever the time would tick away. Dear god. That kind of existence sounded miserable. Nathalie wasn’t sure what to even think. How bad was Gabriel’s situation at home? Why would someone be so controlling over their child, notwithstanding the fact that he was probably almost eighteen years old? She didn’t want to think about it either. Maybe she was given too much freedom with how busy both of her parents were. She knew they trusted her, that was how she was able to roam freely. Never did she think about how she took her freedom for granted before now.
For a moment, she glanced over at her backpack, spying the hamburger bag sitting closed up beside it. How long had she been talking with him? She forgot about her lunch. Maybe that could be the distraction they needed. She gets up and grabs her things, setting them down by her notebook.
“Well,” She opens the bag and grabs the cheeseburger. “It’s probably cold, but maybe we both need a little distraction. Do you want some?” She offers the food to him, but he doesn’t move. If anything, he looks a little confused. “What, never had a cheeseburger before?”
“No? Mother doesn’t want us to eat fast food.” Nathalie’s eyes widened.
“Are you serious? No offense, but your mom sucks. What seventeen year old has never had a damn hamburger?”
“You would be surprised.”
“Well… Just try some. If not, then that’s alright too, maybe some other time if we ever speak to each other again.” Gabriel shakes his head. Nathalie puts the hamburger back in the bag.
“I don’t mind. Maybe we can even speak when we’re in school, if we ever come across each other in the halls.”
“That sounds nice. I can have someone to talk to that isn’t going to college.”
“What do you mean?”
“My two closest friends are a grade behind me. I’m older than they are, so I’m by myself at the lycee while they have another year. I’m tempted to try and flunk myself, but I also really hate that principal and refuse to give that prick the satisfaction of ‘that delinquent girl’ being held back. I just… Need everything to fall into place.”
“Well, I wish you luck in that regard. I hope your plans work out.” They soon hear the faint ringing of a belltower in the distance. Gabriel looks at his wristwatch. It read 3:00. He sighs in relief. He had another hour and thirty minutes left.
“How did the time pass so quickly? It’s 3:00 already.” Nathalie shrugs, getting up from her spot and collecting her things. She was probably better off heading home early to jot some notes down for future reference on some of her homework. One of her classmates usually gets tasked with taking her homework to her while she’s away. That was probably one of the few things that was still the same with lycee, and it was a godsend.
“Well, I’m gonna go ahead and get going. I’ve got three days to spend at home, so I’ll have a lot of work I need to finish. I can always come along and visit though, if you end up here.”
For the first time through the whole conversation, Gabriel smiled. It was gentle and restrained, but genuine, which made all the difference with the dour and grim face he wore previously. And for the first time, Nathalie saw how much difference a smile could make for someone. She could see the faintest spark of hope in those blue-gray eyes, smiling like he had something to look forward to. That made her smile too.
“Maybe if the day gets very rough… But I don’t think I’ll come here for the next three days, if I can help it. I have something new to look forward to when you return, and I don’t aim to squander that. I only hope I can manage to make sure I don’t get suspended as well.”
“Just tell that windbag what he wants to hear and maybe he’ll let you off easy if it’s your first time being called into his office. I’m pretty sure the only reason I got suspended is because I mouthed off to him regarding the truancies.”
“... Noted. Well, if nothing else, I hope to see you in three days, once your suspension ends.”
“Same to you. Bye, for now! See you in three days!” He waves, watching her walk away until she faded away with the passersby up the road.
As she kept walking down the street, holding the hamburger bag in her left hand and her notebook against her chest, Nathalie couldn’t help but smile. It was always nice having a new experience, especially when it was pleasant. Today, she met the boy by the Seine, the topic of her last poems she’s written thus far, and no doubt of many to come. Odd how just a little bit of change gave her the chance to meet someone, maybe a new friend. Maybe he would come to see her that way as time moves forward. She looks down at her book, thinking about what they could talk about whenever they meet again. Change is good.
She’s going to like this change in the status quo.