someone will love you | • m a x i m i l i e n

Pale curtains split the late-afternoon sunlight streaming in through her bedroom window into strips. Warm yellow rectangles highlighting along her legs, and his. The part-veela shifted away from him delicately, swinging her legs off of the bed.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like him. She liked him. But they’d been together for eight months and in that time she’d discovered pretty much all there was to know about Maximilien Manet. In truth, the same thing had happened that had happened in all of her previous relationships; a part of her had gotten bored with the routine (flowers, smiling, just the right amount of affection) and another part of her had just become closed. There was only so much that she could give to someone else without betraying herself. There was a version of herself that the world was allowed to see, and only so much of it existed. Over eight months their relationship had gotten to the point where Max was pressing - maybe intentionally, maybe not - for more. And well, she was a teenager. Dhe didn't want any sort of serious, and wasn’t the type to let people in. Leave it at that. Their breakup two months ago had been the obvious choice and a simple one for her, but she knew it was less simple for him.

She hadn’t planned on this happening, but her parents were away for another weekend - again - and quite simply put, she’d been lonely. Her parents had been off on all kinds of couple retreats stretching all the way back to last winter and her sister was in England and she’d already been home alone for three days. There were plenty of other friends she could have tried to contact, but Gabrielle had known that he’d respond immediately; that he’d be there, in full bright form all for her. She knew exactly how to behave with him to get what she wanted. He was so simple to work out, and sometimes simple was what she needed. The physical stuff had just sort of happened. Maybe she’d wanted to feel wanted; Max was her first and, so far, only. She knew he liked the concept.

Gabrielle left the bed quietly, leaving him dozing as she pulled on a pale blue silk dressing gown. She didn’t really need to be quiet; Max wasn’t a light sleeper and the house was empty, but perhaps it was a habit. The blonde made her way to the bathroom to splash her face with cold water over the bathroom sink. She looked at herself in the mirror. She felt some trepidation. There was some nervousness that he’d want to stay or that he’d misinterpret what had happened. Her pale eyes flicked to the reflection of the doorway behind her as he appeared. She’d sort of hoped he’d doze a little longer.

“Max,” she said, giving a gentle smile.

Maximilien laid still for a brief moment upon awakening, allowing his eyes to adjust to the soft beams of light spilling into the room. A short recap of the previous day played like a movie in his head and he allowed himself a small smile at the memory. The events that led him here were almost laughable; for weeks he sent letter after letter, flower after flower, gift after gift: all forms of apology for the way he’d treated Gabrielle at the wedding, and all desperate attempts that seemed like they were being undeniably ignored. Yet, as always, he persisted. He sent warblers - letters like howlers in that they played aloud, but the contents were given in song instead of shrieks. He sent bouquets (with flowers other than roses upon hearing a rumour that Gabby did not even like roses). He wrote poetry. He tried until he was acknowledged. And it worked.

After the disaster that was the wedding, he had needed today desperately; a moment of not quite complete solitude, but still one in which he felt hidden from the rest of the world. For a while, it was just him and Gabrielle existing. And this time, all of his attention had fallen on her. He hadn’t known what she’d invited him over for, hadn’t expected to sleep with her, but it had happened. Though he was happy and would not complain about the events, they certainly left him feeling more confused than ever.

He didn’t know what it meant. Were they back together now? Was it just a fling; a last hurrah before she properly left him. Their breakup felt so unresolved to him. It had hit him like a bludger; one minute he was happy then within seconds he was having the wind knocked right out of him. He’d tried winning her back to no avail, only managing to convince her to attend the wedding as a friendly date as opposed to a girlfriend, which was what he’d really wanted. And then he’d screwed that up royally by putting his attention on Sylvain and Lyra. The thought made his stomach lurch. Was this another chance? He couldn’t tell. Gabrielle was not easy to read, though that never stopped him from attempting to figure her out.

His fingers sunk into the soft pillow as he rolled his shoulders and stretched his legs, removing the excess tiredness from his joints and preparing to extract himself from the comfort of the bed. When he noticed Gabby’s missing form, Max slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position. Running his fingers through his disheveled curls, he let out a low yawn, and his gaze moved around the room in search of his silvery-haired companion. The sheet, which was now a crumpled mess that covered only his lower legs, was peeled off of him before he got up to approach her.

For a minute, he lingered in the doorway, leaning against the frame to admire her. The fact that she was perfect crossed his mind many times a day. It said a lot about his ego to think that he was deserving of her - to be so unwilling to let her go.

“Gabby.” He smiled, stepping behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. He looked at their reflections in the mirror as he rested his chin atop her head. “G’d’evening,” he said, still smiling. Max didn’t really know what he wanted to say. He yearned to know what was going on in her head. Was she happy? More specifically, was she happy with him? Instead he asked, “How are you?”

Gabrielle watched the dips at each corner of his mouth as he smiled. She studied his gentle brown eyes; the spark behind them when he looked at her. Gabrielle wondered if she’d have to deal with him like a lost puppy for the rest of the weekend. The day was drawing to a close. Outside, the sun was setting and the light was slowly changing from warm afternoon lighting to night. When she’d invited him over, Gabrielle hadn’t really expected him to still be here by nightfall. Now she wasn’t sure how to politely tell him that he didn’t need to be here anymore. A part of her wanted to go for a shower, but she thought he’d probably want to join her. As far as Gabrielle was concerned, showers were private spaces. A place to gather her thoughts.

“I’m a little hungry?” She replied with a slight smile. She knew that he was asking for more - he wanted to know how she felt, or at least if she’d enjoyed the afternoon with him - but Gabrielle didn’t give things away that she didn’t have to. “What are your plans for tonight?” She asked, turning around to face him. The porcelain basin pressed into her back as she looked up at him. The part-veela was gently prying to see if he had any intention of leaving soon. Gabrielle placed a hand on his chest and gently pushed him so she could move past, returning to her bedroom. She knew he’d follow. The girl undid the front tie of her dressing gown and slipped it off, hanging it neatly on a hook on her wall. She then began to get dressed into real clothes; a khaki long-sleeved shirt dress that laced up at the front and some house socks for the cold tiles of her living room.

That… was not exactly the answer he was looking for, but he would work with it. Max knew that getting a clear cut answer out of Gabrielle about how she felt, or where they stood, would not be an easy feat. But, he decided, if he could jump off of a balcony just to get her to date him, he could wait for an explanation. He stood up straighter and replied thoughtfully, “We could make something.” Then he thought about his lack of skills in the kitchen and in fear of doing something disastrous like burning down her house, he opted for another option. “Or order takeout?” He would be content with anything as long as they were spending time together. It was almost laughable, then, when she asked him if he had any plans.

Not taking the hint, Maximilien brought a hand to his chin. “Why? Did you have something in mind?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows for a comical effect before sweeping in with a kiss on the forehead and a good-natured smile. “I just want to spend time with you,” he confessed. Brown eyes peered into her grey pair once again searching for some sort of reaction. Nothing. Just a soft shove as she made her way past him and back into the room. Like a puppy, he followed behind her but made no move to throw his own clothes back on.

"Okay," she said simply. Gabrielle didn't show her displeasure, but as she moved back to her bedroom the part-veela wondered whether it would be worth it to just tell him she didn't want him to be here anymore. Gabrielle wasn't one to accomodate others' wants in place of her own, but she also reserved her cold, blunt words for those who had wronged her. If she cut down every person who annoyed her, there wouldn't be anyone left. As she dressed, Gabrielle could feel his eyes on her body. She didn't have to look at him to know where his gaze fell; which curves his attention was drawn too. When she was dressed, she turned back to him. "Lets order something," she said. "Your choice, just floo something."

Gabrielle moved out into the living room, wondering distantly what her parents would think if they came home now, but not really caring. The blonde motioned to the fireplace, not that she really needed to. Max had arrived via that fireplace last winter when they'd still been together. He'd met her parents and then one weekend while they were away - much like this one - she'd asked him to stay the night. She'd worn simple, matching white underwear under a dress that hugged her body. They'd had sex for the first time in this room, on the rug by the fireplace. She hadn't wasted any time. Thinking about it made her feel a little disconnected from the here and now. Her feelings had changed so much since then.

Four or so months into their relationship, Gabrielle hadn't exactly been in love with him, but she'd certainly been more fond and less bored of him than she was now. The blonde remembered him telling her he loved her, with his hands on her body in the heat of the moment, but she hadn't said it back. She'd just kissed him and let him take off her clothes. Now she felt like Max was almost a stranger. She'd explored him enough. He was kind and sweet and it had been good of him to come over today and she appreciated it, but she guessed she probably should do something about what she assumed he was feeling now before it was too late.

Gabrielle moved over to him, closing the distance between them after he'd sent their food order off into the green fire. Her socked feet treaded lightly on the thick rug. "Max," she started, tucking a long strand of soft, silvery hair behind one ear. "I had a really nice afternoon with you." The blonde reached out and touched his bare chest automatically. She was cushioning her next words in compliments and gentle touches. "And you're welcome to stay the night," Though I wish you wouldn't, "But just to be clear... you know this doesn't mean we're back together, right? I wouldn't want you to get the wrong idea."

He wondered if he was reading into things too much by wondering if she was being distant. She wasn’t saying much, but that was the problem. It felt like a problem. Maximilien wanted to believe that Gabrielle cared, too — that she was interested in keeping him in her life just as much as he wanted to keep her in his, but a part of him feared — knew — that it might be a little naive. He watched her with curious eyes for a while longer before making his way into the living room. After he found a spare piece of paper and a pen, he thought about what to get. Deciding to keep it simple, he wrote the order for a pizza.. Then, after jotting the location, he threw it in her fireplace and watched as it was swallowed by the green flames. The same green flames he’d exited from not so long ago.

Max had loved her then and he loved her now. Right? Right. It felt right, being with her, wrapped up in the sheets and breathing in her scent. He remembered returning home, luminescent grin on his face. Not even seeing Sylvain had dampened his mood that night. He’d been on cloud nine and to bring him back to earth, his real brother Gaspard had questioned Max on his true feelings, bringing up the fact that Gabby was part veela. He tried to convince Max that his mind made him think he was more invested than he would really be, but the boy refused to believe or agree then. And now, being in her presence, he felt the same way. How could this not be completely and wholly real love?

And then she shot an arrow through his heart. While the idea of this being just a… fling (the word felt harsh and was unwanted in his mind) had occurred to him earlier, he had been hoping that it was more than that — that, like him, she wanted more than that. He searched those stormy grey eyes for a hint of mischief, just in case she was joking. Pulling his leg because she knew his reaction would be priceless. Nothing. Well then. This shit hurt. But Max, the persistent boy that he was, wouldn’t let it get him down just yet.

“Fair enough,” he said, playing it casually and placing a hand on her waist. “We don’t have to be together…” He left off the yet that threatened to slip off the edge of his tongue. “Like I said, I’m just happy about spending time with you.” He wanted to tell her that he missed her, but it felt like it would be the wrong thing to say at this moment.

Gabrielle almost held her breath as he searched her eyes. She could tell he was thinking things that he wasn't saying. Probably things that she could guess, about how he wished they were together or how he wished she hadn't said what she'd just said. A part of her wanted to sigh and remind him that she'd broken up with him for a reason. She remembered taking him for a walk two days before summer started and telling him that she wanted to break up with him; that she thought they should be friends. He'd taken it extremely well at the time - she thought she might have underestimated him - but then he'd gotten in contact with her not too long into the summer, asking if she'd come to that disaster wedding with him. He'd sent her letters and poetry and a vast assortment of flowers.

He was trying to be casual about it now, but she could tell that he wanted more. It wasn't an expression that she was unused to reading, not even from him. It had only been what, four or five months after she'd broken up with his best friend before he'd asked her out? Gabrielle had been able to tell that he liked her for some time now. He was obviously attracted to her still; this afternoon had proved it, but he was keeping his thoughts to himself. Honestly? She appreciated it. He'd always been good at doing whatever she wanted, and now was no exception. Without moving her hand from his chest, Gabrielle smiled, moved in a little closer and leant in to kiss him on the lips. A reward, of sorts, for being compliant.

She teased him with her lips and with her body, slinking in to press up against him in ways she knew he liked. She pulled back after a moment, pleased expression on her face. "What did you order?" she asked curiously. Her eyes flicked down the length of his body. "Did you want to put some pants on?" she teased. Gabrielle moved to her couch (white, faux leather) and took a seat, folding her legs across one another elegantly.