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Marianne flinches at the way the front door creaks when she goes to open it.
“Marianne, is that you?”
“Y-yes, dad.”
Marianne pauses with her hand on the door knob as her father pokes his head out of the living room.
It’s not like she was expecting to escape totally unnoticed, but… It would have been nice.
“Where are you going? It’s after dinner, I would have thought you’d be up in your room studying.”
“O-oh… Hilda wants to study together, so I told her I would go over to her house… Is that okay?”
“Hilda Goneril wants to study together?”
“If she doesn’t pass her trigonometry test this week, she’s going to have her car taken away…”
“Ah, that makes more sense. Alright dear. Have a good night, and don’t get back too late.”
Marianne manages to hold in her sigh of relief until she’s said her goodbyes to her father and is out the front door.
If she were going to study with Hilda, no doubt Hilda’s car— the one she really is going to have taken away from her temporarily if she doesn’t pass her test this week, which Lorenz and Claude have been roped into helping her study for— would be pulled up in front of Marianne’s noise. Thankfully, her father doesn’t think to check that kind of thing anymore. He trusts her, and he knows all of her friends, because there aren’t many of them.
But Hilda’s car is nowhere to be seen, and when Marianne is at the end of her driveway, she turns and walks down the road.
Marianne and her family live in a quiet neighbourhood. All of the homes are huge, but not ostentatious. This is the sort of place where the quiet sort of rich people live— people who were born into money or people who have made it through boring corporate jobs and want to show off their wealth without looking like an over the top twenty-something burning through daddy’s money faster than he can make it.
(Marianne shakes her head at those kinds of thoughts. That’s not the kind of thing she normally thinks. It seems like certain people have been rubbing off on her lately.)
If anyone in this particular neighbourhood were to see Marianne sneaking around, they would no doubt tell her father, and he would no doubt ground her for an unthinkable amount of time— if he could even believe that his daughter was sneaking around. After all, it wasn’t so long ago that Marianne was barely able to muster the courage to make any friends at school, let alone do the sorts of things that teenagers normally do that get them in trouble with their parents— drinking, partying, hooking up, that sort of thing.
That’s why Marianne walks all the way from her house to the closest convenience store (not a short walk, because in neighbourhoods like this, even the higher end sort of stores aren’t welcome— it would ruin the aesthetic of the place) to meet up with the person waiting for her.
And he is waiting for her.
The beaten up bike makes it look like he has a lot less money than he actually has, although Marianne knows that it looks like that because restoring it from basically nothing has been a passion project of his— and she also knows that by ‘passion project’ he means the thing he does when he wants to get away from his family and blow off some steam. He keeps saying he’s going to finish fixing it up and it’s going to look as good as new, but for now the fact that it runs at all and can get him where he wants to go (away from his family) is good enough for now.
The shock of red hair that’s longer in the back than it probably should be also makes him look more like a ruffian or a street punk than the oldest son of a family even richer than hers— although she supposes those two things don’t necessarily have to be mutually exclusive.
And the jagged scar across his face, crossing his nose and just barely missing one of his eyes—
Well, you get the picture.
Marianne pauses walking towards him where he has his bike parked in the convenience store parking lot. Part of that is the fact that she’s nervous. Part of that is that she just likes looking at him like this.
He takes a cigarette out of his pack and lights it, blowing smoke as he cranes his neck back and lets his eyes fall shut for a few seconds— and when he opens them he looks right over at her like he’s known she’s there this whole time.
“Hey there, Marianne,” Miklan Anschutz Gautier growls in his pack-a-day voice, grinning around the cigarette in his mouth, his eyes as sharp as daggers. “Ready to go for a ride?”
Boy, is she ever.
Miklan brings the bike to a stop at the lookout.
It’s one of those places most people don’t even realize exist. Aren’t places like this just made up for horror movies so the teens have somewhere to go park and make out so the killer has a chance to get them? But no, there are actually places just like it almost everywhere— at least everywhere that has nice views and hiking trails. They’re a place usually off a busy road near hiking trails where you can park so you can go for a walk, and usually they’re near a lookout point or something.
This particular one gives a view of the whole city, and just like in the movies, it’s a popular spot for teenagers to go and make out. There are no serial killers targeting teens making out in their cars, though— there are probably other nefarious things that go on up here, but Marianne prefers not to think about those kinds of things.
Either way, she’s perfectly safe with Miklan. People would have to be crazy to try and mess with someone like him.
She supposes that includes her— but she’s not trying to deny anything.
There’s no backseat for them to get cozy in when they’re riding Miklan’s bike, but the two of them make do with Marianne climbing into Miklan’s lap. He’s more than strong enough to keep her held up, and she doesn’t even feel self-conscious about having to hike her skirt up above the knee so she doesn’t have to sit side-saddle like she was feeling when she got onto the back of his bike in the first place. Of course, out here the two of them are alone— not in a busy parking lot.
(She keeps telling herself she’s going to wear jeans next time, but Miklan always seems to enjoy seeing her in her nice long skirts— something about the fact that the more she dresses exactly the way she always has, the more her father would approve of the way she’s dressed, the more excited he feels about the fact that he gets to defile her.
She’s not sure whether the language he chooses annoys her or turns her on. She doesn’t say anything either way. It’s probably a little bit of both, but that’s pretty typical with Miklan.)
If they were really going to get up to anything serious, Miklan would have brought them somewhere more comfortable. Sure, this is a premium make out spot, but having sex on a motorcycle isn’t the easiest task.
(Marianne doesn’t have any firsthand experience with that, but Miklan assured her that it’s definitely not worth the trouble.)
It’s not that she’s opposed to the idea. Most people would think she would be. Marianne is shy, well behaved, studious. She goes to church every Sunday, even when her father decides to skip because he’s busy with other things. She never even started getting out of her homeschooling shell until she made friends with Hilda, who basically dragged her into a social life whether she liked it or not— and at the very least all of the people Hilda introduced her to were, for the most part, harmless and friendly.
Claude’s pranks and Sylvain’s habit of breaking hearts might be two instances her father would disagree with, but…
As much as Marianne is in some ways every bit the person people think she is, there’s always been something inside of her that wanted something different. She’s ignored it for most of her life. It’s not like she’s one of those girls who’s been forced into this image against her will because it’s what’s expected of her. When she goes to Church, it’s because she’s genuinely devout; when she studies hard, it’s because she genuinely wants to get into a good school and make a future for herself, even if she has a hard time imagining what her life is going to be like if she can barely make eye contact with strangers most days. Her father hasn’t forced her into anything, and that’s why he trusts her enough to take her at face value when she says she’s going to meet a friend to study and never for a moment thinks she might be sneaking out to meet up with a secret boyfriend.
He’s never banned her from having a boyfriend; she’s expressed disinterest in dating all on her own. So why would he think he had to worry about her?
Well, Miklan is the reason he should be worrying. As long as he doesn’t know about him, then he has no reason to be concerned.
Miklan Anschutz Gautier is five years older than her, which means he’s 21 to her 16. She met him because of his brother— because of Sylvain, who was throwing a house party one weekend when his parents were away that Hilda had dragged her to.
It was her first time doing anything she thought her father might disapprove of. She didn’t even want to do it, but Hilda had insisted, saying that it was a rite of passage and that as long as she didn’t end up getting blackout drunk or taking any weird pills from strangers then it wasn’t like she was really doing anything wrong.
The blackout drunk thing ended up being a very relevant warning, because no one who was at the party— except for a handful of Sylvain’s closest friends— had any idea that he had an older brother who was old enough to buy all of them booze, and who had done so with significant amounts of bribery from Sylvain and then had decided to stick around because,
“If anything gets wrecked then dad’s going to blame me for not keeping a closer eye on you. So don’t let your little friends break anything or I’m going to beat the shit out of you.”
Marianne had been terrified of him from the moment she saw him. He was big and bulky, the sort of guy who worked out not because he wanted to get fit but because he needed an outlet for a lot of angry energy. Hilda had made some sort of roid rage joke about him, but Marianne can never remember what she said because she distinctly remembers being too engrossed in staring at Miklan’s scars— the big nasty one that ran right across his face, the smaller but still nasty looking one on his jaw, and a few notable ones that his too tight faded black t-shirt hadn’t done a very good job of covering on his arms.
She had even spotted a few on his inner wrists that a tattoo artist had made a very good effort to try and cover up with the beginnings of a sleeve.
Most of the time, the sort of guys who would hang around a party full of teenagers when they weren't one were the sort of people who wanted to see teenage girls get drunk and do things they wouldn’t normally agree to, but Miklan hadn’t been like that. In fact, it seemed like he was genuinely just interested in making sure he wasn’t going to get blamed for any mess all of them made, because he spent most of the party sitting on the back porch smoking a joint and glaring at anyone who came outside and bothered him.
Marianne hadn’t realized he was out there or that he didn’t want company until she stepped outside just trying to get some fresh air, because she was feeling overcrowded and a bit lightheaded inside and the music was playing so loudly it was starting to make her head hurt. As soon as she had stepped outside he had turned to glare at her and she had almost disappeared back inside as quickly as she came out— but someone bumped into her from behind trying to get past her to get to the kitchen for another beer and she tripped over the small step from the door to the porch.
She would have landed flat on her face if he hadn’t caught her— she hadn’t even seen him get out of the deck chair he had claimed for himself, but he was able to pick her up and put her back on her feet as though she didn’t weigh anything.
“Be careful,” he warned her. “I don’t wanna have to call the paramedics and tell them some kid split her head open on our porch.
“U-um… Th-thank you.”
She has no idea what possessed her to stay on the porch that night instead of running back inside. Maybe it was the fact that in spite of Miklan claiming it was only for his own benefit, he still helped her without even thinking twice about it and even seemed to do it by instinct, which seemed to go against everything she knew about him— which was very little except for the way he looked and the fact that Sylvain had told everyone to stay away from his older brother when they had arrived at the party.
Maybe it was the fact that he seemed so lonely, even when he was obviously going out of his way to avoid people and didn’t seem to want any company. Of course, Marianne had more experience than most being a person who could still feel lonely even when she wanted to be alone…
In the end, Marianne never ended up going back inside. Hilda had to come and find her when she was getting ready to leave because things were getting too wild for her and she knew her brother would be figuring out she wasn’t studying at a friend’s house like she said she was soon, because she stayed outside on the back porch— at first just catching her breath from the commotion inside, then starting to chat with Miklan about things that weren’t very important, until eventually the two of them ended up sitting side by side at the bottom of the steps leading to the expansive backyard so the lights from the party didn’t disrupt them staring up at the sky while Miklan sat far enough away that she wouldn’t go home smelling like weed.
Miklan had come into her life suddenly, had hit her like a brick, and much to her surprise he seems to be there to stay. He hasn’t gotten tired of her yet, even though she fully expects that to happen any day now— because she’s a boring high school girl and he’s a man who seems to hate everything about the life she lives except for her, for some reason.
The two of them break their kiss because they need to breathe, but before Marianne can lean back in to kiss him again, Miklan puts a hand on her shoulder to keep the two of them apart.
“Hey, we need to talk.”
Marianne’s heart stops in her chest.
It’s like she said— she’s not stupid enough to think this could last forever. Sooner or later Miklan would get bored of dating a little church mouse and move on to greener pastures.
She just didn’t expect it would happen when they had literally just been kissing a few seconds ago.
“O-okay… W-what about?”
She already knows what about, but she doesn’t want to jump to conclusions. Or rather, she doesn’t want Miklan to know that she’s jumping to conclusions.
Even though she’s already shaking so hard she’s sure it won’t be hard for him to figure it out. She just wants him to get it over with quickly, like ripping off a bandaid—
“I’m leaving town.”
Oh.
Oh.
It’s not like that’s better than she was expecting to hear. It’s actually worse. For a second she thinks she’s messed up badly enough that she’s more or less chased him out, but of course that’s ridiculous— and she knows that Miklan has plenty of issues of his own that have nothing to do with her which are much more likely to be responsible.
“But… Why?”
“My old man’s finally gotten tired of me, and the feeling is mutual. It’s time for me to get out of here before one of us ends up doing something we regret.”
Marianne knows that in spite of coming from money like her— or maybe because he comes from money like her— Miklan’s home life isn’t good. Marianne has had her issues with her adoptive father in the past, but they’ve never been so bad she’s considered leaving home over them.
For Miklan, things are different. She knows things are tense between him and his father, and his step-mother, and his brother— all for different reasons and in different ways, but all of them stemming back to the death of Miklan’s mother when he was young. She also knows that he’s older than her, an actual adult, and leaving home at his age isn’t unheard of— expected even. So it’s not like he’s running away in the same way that she would be if she—
“Come with me.”
For a second she thinks she just imagines him saying that because for a moment she gets lost in thought of what it would be like if he did ask her to go with him and she left, but then she realizes no, she’s not imagining that— he really did just say that to her.
She looks up at him and blinks. Once, twice. Her mouth opens like she wants to say something, then she closes it again. Opens, closes.
Miklan looks at her expectantly, waiting for an answer, but far more patient than you would expect from someone like him. Someone known for having such a bad temper that he got into a bar fight that’s left him with that scar on his face, someone who has only escaped jail time because of the money and influence of his family. Marianne knows him better than anyone else, she’s pretty sure, but even she’s taken aback by his sudden—
“Yes.”
She doesn’t even realize what she’s saying until she’s said it, but once she has it’s out there, and though she could try to backpedal and say that she didn’t mean it…
The strange thing is that she does.
She’s never thought about leaving home before now. She knows that what she and Miklan have… It’s not something that she’s supposed to want, and even if it is one small act of rebellion, it’s not something she should try to hold onto.
And yet.
Marianne is tired of being the person that she is now. She wants to be something different.
And maybe Miklan can be the one to give that to her.
“You serious?”
“I, um… That is, if you want me… I understand if you don’t…”
“Hey, I was the one who asked. I figured you might want to get out of this fucking place already.”
Marianne has friends here. She has the only family she’s never known. Unlike Miklan, who has nothing to really leave behind… There’s plenty that she’s going to leave behind.
But her heart beats just that much faster when she imagines just dropping everything and leaving with him, and so many people— like Hilda— have told her to follow what her heart wants.
This is definitely not a smart idea, and maybe by tomorrow morning she’ll have changed her mind. But right now, sitting in his lap, staring out across the cityscape…
Marianne knows what she wants.
And what she wants is Miklan.