that known handwriting—that’s what his eyes end up focusing distractedly, observing as she fills the small papers, the way she writes his name, the same way as he’s seen her doing so several times before. he had always liked to see her writing, it was a distracting yet amusing sight, the way her eyes focus on the task, or how a lock of her hair would, sometimes, fall on the side of her face. many were the times this happened before they dated and he always felt the urge to touch her, to pull that lock away and brush his fingertips on the side of her face, tracing it. and many were the times he had actually done it when they were together, when she was sleeping in his arms, too deep in sleep whenever he suddenly woke in the middle of the night. those are just some of the memories that fill his mind just by the single sight of her. it’s weirdly uncomfortable how this still affects him—though he is not surprised by his own reactions.
her tone, though, brings him back to reality, to present, in which they are no longer together or are each other’s business. harsh, he notices, lips pressing together into a thin line to control any comment that could follow. he didn’t expect her to mope, not in a library, not ever—he’s barely seen her actually sad in all the time they’ve been together. mad, yes, but sad? no. just once, perhaps, in paris… but in general, she was… and still may be strong. probably much stronger than he is. the thought of that makes his heart feel even smaller in his chest, tight as there is a hand squeezing it hard. “of course not. you never mope.” adam comments with a small, sad smile. “i see…” he remembers her father all too well, of course. how he had invited him in when they were barely friends, taking him in under their roof for a family holiday—one he never thought he would ever have again. he knows how attached she is with the old man, so doesn’t feel impressed at all at the thought that she is still in avenir because of him, to take care of him.
adam’s eyebrow raise in slight confusion when she brings in his father, only to realize what she is saying. “i suppose he’s been as busy as before. he isn’t the one behind this branch. that’s me.” the words come slightly monotonous, as if he is just stating facts. he would’ve never guessed she would think it was his father who’s been here—though he can’t say she is wrong in thinking so. adam had just started stepping his game with the building in avenir, and never got into the business involving any of the other hotels, besides paris. at the question, then, he shrugs slowly. “it is slightly less fancy than the other ones,” as much as he tells the truth, anyone who stepped into the hallways of the place would beg to differ—but that would really be because they’ve never seen his father’s building, for sure, “to fit in the city. not going to bore you with details about it. but i came because… well, it was on the plans to have one here a long time ago.” not a lie, once again. he remembers the projects his father did in honor to irene, who wanted them to have a branch in her hometown, how good it could be, to be able to employ people in a small city and, yet, give outsiders a good place to stay if any of them wanted to plan an event—much of the thibault specialty along those years. adam doesn’t share any of this now, though, feeling his tongue dry and incapable of forming words. “so… you haven’t been there before.”
perhaps it’s not with meaning, but as simple as his words are, they still hit her hard. you never mope sounds awfully lot as a call out for the tear-less break up, for how she didn’t try reaching out for the following months -- they’re all text book steps to a healthy break up, she would think, but in adam’s eyes? she knows how it must have seemed like: like she didn’t care for him, when behind closed doors, she had preferred found ways to overwhelm herself rather than drowning in tears. maybe i am numb, she tells herself, contradictorily swallowing a set of tears and sentences that would only stir things in a way they shouldn’t.
he has always frowned whenever his father was brought up in the conversation, but his surprise receives an ulterior reason when he speaks up, and it fuels her own shock. sure, he had shared his architecture tastes and ambitions, and his major was related to the family’s hotelier business, but she had never expected him to actually follow through -- and right here? in her city? belle is sure her widen eyes hide nothing of what she feels, but she doesn’t feel like she could be blamed; how many days she had actually walked the other way, afraid mr. thibault might be out there just waiting to give her a i told you so look?
“less fancy. right, like i’d believe you,” comes out with a nervous laugh, and she’s definitely red in the face for spending so long with no decent words to say. the brunette purses her lips slightly, putting down the pen with slight clamp hands and bringing them to her skirt’s pockets instead. “of course. it was foolish of me not to think of her.” and it truly was, it’s not just out of her inborn kindness; how many times has he spoken of his mother to her? how many times has he been with belle here and found memories in every corner? the brunette brings out her hand to hover over his, and it’s almost automatic for her to brush her thumb over the back of his hand gently.
it takes her seconds to notice it’s not an ideal move in her part, and she pulls apart, clearing her throat and picking up the stack of books to move them to a cart. “i’m a busy person, you know,” belle states, as if to excuse her not showing up on his hotel. “today is my realization, although you most likely haven’t noticed.” now this is supposed to sound as a slight scold, obviously as a little teasing. “actually, even my children are here,” the brunette nods towards a pair of children with a man, and, as always, belle can’t help but to smile widely at the sight of one of her students and his little sister (a future student, hopefully!). “can you believe i’ve always knew their father? it’s so odd to me to see people from here as functioning adults,” she confides as if adam was just an old friend, unaware of how she may sound and how he is able to do a lot but to be her friend.