🖤 I See My Future Before Me 🖤
***
"Des yeux qui font baisser les miens, un rire qui se perd sur sa bouche, voila le portrait sans retouche, de l'homme auquel j'appartiens,..."
She's just sitting there, at the back of the dark establishment near the bar, paying close attention to the singer on the small stage as she sang. She was holding what looked like a single stem of a purple hyacinth, and there was that melancholic expression on her face once more.
"Quand il me prend dans ses bras, qu'il me parle tout bas, Je vois la vie en rose. Il me dit des mots d'amour, des mots de tous les jours, et ça me fait quelque chose. Il est entré dans mon coeur, une part de bonheur, dont je connais la cause. C'est lui pour moi. Moi pour lui dans la vie. Il me l'a dit, l'a juré pour la vie."
He was just sitting right next to her but, of course, he couldn't do anything to comfort her. As much as he wanted to get close to her, to touch her smooth skin, to caress her cheeks, to brush that wayward (H/C) lock off her forehead, to touch those dainty hands and hold them close to his heart,...
... to lean close to her ear and whisper to her how much he loved her and how much he missed her,...
He reached out a hand towards her, his fingers grazing the tears on her cheeks that he couldn't brush. He gently rubbed the back of his hand against her face and felt nothing.
"My love,..." He whispered, his voice low and hoarse. She didn't hear him.
"Et dès que je l'aperçois, alors je sens en moi, mon coeur qui bat."
Her head bowed down low, her eyes closed shut. Her tears fell uncontrollably down her lap, her shoulders trembling violently with her suppressed sobbing. She wiped those tears again and again with the sleeves of her pale pink fur hoodie which was recently given by Sister Christina and averted her gaze from the passing patrons to avoid being seen as such. She looked up once more, inhaled sharply through her nose, covered her mouth with her right hand, and leaned her right elbow against the counter top of the sleek, mahogany bar.
She was trying so hard to stifle her sobs, to control the tears,...
... to shout at the top of her lungs how miserable she felt.
From the shadows, a bartender, who was idly wiping a glass with a white napkin, approached her. She sat up straight and managed to make herself decent before him despite her red and swollen eyes.
"Re - bonjour! Je peux vous aider? Ou vous admirez juste la belle vue?" He told her. And seeing that she's one of his foreign patrons who can't understand english, he spoke once more. "Hello again dear, can I help you with anything? Or do you want a glass of vodka for your weary heart?"
"Ah, yes. Yes, please." She answered, not sure whether she could afford a glass of liquor at this place.
"Alright. One glass of vodka coming right up." As the Bartender was about to prepare her drink, he faced her once more and leaned a bit closer to her. "Please, call me Petya. The owner of this establishment."
She nodded and smiled weakly at him. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Petya."
"And you, as well. And that,..." the man said with a smug smile as he pointed at the lovely singer who was approaching them. "... is my lovely wife, Natasha. She is known here as Solange by the French patrons, kind of like a screen name, if you will. But, she is pure Russian. Just like me."
"Oh, is that so?"
"Yes! Let me introduce you. Solange, s'il te plaît, tu peux descandre une minute?"
"Mon amour." The woman called Solange, and whose real name is Natasha, greeted as she approached her husband and kissed him on the cheek. She turned towards (Y/N) and smiled, appraising her from head to foot with seemingly expert eyes. "Добро пожаловать в Розах и Водке!"
"Ah, she said, hello and welcome to Roses And Vodka." Petya translated for her.
"Oh, thank you." (Y/N) replied with a courteous nod.
Petya translated for his wife, who, then nodded at (Y/N) with a slight smile on her lovely face. "Мне кажется, ты влюблена. Ты хочешь чтоб я спела что-то для тебя? Я это сделаю совсем бесплатно, но следующий раз вам придется заплатить."
Petya chuckled as he kissed his wife on both cheeks, the language barrier both killing and confusing (Y/N). He, then, turned towards her once more. "She would love to sing any song you want. Do you have any requests?"
V watched with complete adoration as the lovely, yet sad and lonely, girl pursed and curled her lips, seemingly concentrating on her song choice. She opened her mouth, then closed them once more as she couldn't think of any song. And this, not to mention her puffy red eyes, worried both Petya and Natasha.
"Are you in pain?" The bartender carefully asked, which made the girl cry all over again.
"Ssh, ssh, ssh,..." Natasha, who felt it was her fault why (Y/N) cried, hushed and gently wrapped her in her arms. She said something in Russian, then Petya translated for her.
"She just told you to not cry over a man who left you." Petya answered. "I was right, then? You need vodka for your weary heart?"
"Ah, no. I'm sorry." (Y/N) pulled away from Natasha and wiped her tears with sleeves of her hoodie once more. "No one left me. Yet. I haven't even seen him."
To this, the couple only looked at each other, dumbfounded as to what she just said.
"What do you mean by that?"
(Y/N) bowed down low and exhaled, feeling her breath getting heavier by the second. She looked up once more and faced the concerned couple. "I was looking for someone. A man with white hair. He plays the violin. I saw him right here where I' am now."
"Oh."
V listened intently on the conversation, then pulled a notebook from his pocket - the little journal he kept during his travels. He opened it and saw his little scribbles of the places he's been in search for that elusive power to keep his mortal flesh from crumbling.
Spain
Germany
Russia
France
Italy
There were a lot more places, and not only from Europe, that were listed on his little journal but, he only knew one thing for certain: that (Y/N) has already been to those places ten years earlier than him. Somehow, with the help of Cassandra's visions, she accurately predicted all the places he would go to ten years before they could even meet. Somehow, she correctly assumed the order of his actions before he was even born as V.
Somehow, she saw her future before her,...
And she was traveling because she was looking for him and him alone that it made her sad and miserable like this.
And him? He was traveling because of his search for some stupid kind of power that corrupted him and blinded him from the truth, allowing someone to manipulate him. And not because he wanted, or expected to ever see her.
And his foolishness led to this very moment: of him regretting all his actions and grieving for her disappearance.
He might not have cared for anyone before but, now,...
... his heart ached to see her like this.
He was just sitting right next to her but, of course, he couldn't do anything to comfort her. As much as he wanted to get close to her, to touch her smooth skin, to caress her cheeks, to brush that wayward (H/C) lock off her forehead, to touch those dainty hands and hold them close to his heart,...
... to lean close to her ear and whisper to her how much he loved her and how much he missed her,...
But, of course, he couldn't do this, for this was a mere illusion. The remnants of her past that was left behind by Galatea, the Bearer of The Past.
The Bearer,... of her Past.
Natasha spoke once more and as Petya translated for her, she went to her stage and prepared herself for another performance, quickly whispering something to the pianist. The notes from the grand piano sounded and the words came out from the mouth of the singer known as Solange.
And as both V and (Y/N) listened to her song, they were both afflicted with something that made them clutch their chests, feeling a strange kind of pain and sadness that instantly brought tears to their eyes. V quickly glanced back at (Y/N) to see her bowing her head down low as she unloaded all of her burden and emotions.
He reached out a hand, wanting to touch her this time. Everything around him lost its color as the movements around him slowly froze. Even Natasha's voice seemed to lose its clarity.
Then, everything finally stopped moving, from the patrons, to Petya, to Natasha, to the Pianist,...
... even (Y/N).
A single tear rolled down her cheeks. He reached out a single finger for the last time to catch it, and when it collided against his skin, the sensation it gave him almost feeling surreal, every single thing before him turned to ash, and it plunged him in total darkness.
V closed his eyes, bringing his finger closer to his lips, giving it a kiss,...
There's a saying old, says that love is blind.
Still we're often told, seek and ye shall find.
So I'm going to seek a certain lad I've had in mind.
Looking everywhere, haven't found him yet.
He's the big affair I cannot forget.
Only man I ever think of with regret.
I'd like to add his initial to my monogram.
Tell me, where is the shepherd for this,...
... lost,...
... lamb,...
The poet opened his eyes upon hearing Natasha's disembodied voice that seemed to come from afar, and when he looked around his dark surroundings, he saw a glimmer of light right before him. He chased the light, and it brought him to visions of recent events,...
... of that tear - stained letter in his hand bearing those heartbreaking lyrics to that song,...
... of him running to the nearest places around the apartment in search of her,...
... of him finally losing his temper and rushing to all the places he knew that she might go to,...
... of his former familiars finally catching up to him to calm him down and urge him to come home after a week of his endless search,...
... of him breaking down in front of Nico, his emotions getting the better of him and his sadness, guilt, and regret of everything that happened within the past couple of weeks going down on him all at once like an unstoppable and devastating storm, tearing him down and making him vulnerable despite the power he acquired.
There's a somebody I'm longin' to see.
I hope that he turns out to be,
Someone who'll watch over me.
I'm a little lamb who's lost in the wood.
I know I could, always be good.
To one who'll watch over me.
He closed his eyes once more, trying to push these painful memories off his tortured mind.
But, alas, he couldn't.
For with eyes wide opened, V could see everything.
And with eyes closed shut, V could see her and only her,...
... of how she looked up at him and smiled at him like he was the only person in her own world that mattered,...
... of how graceful she looked when she walked,...
... of how her cheeks turn red whenever she talked to him,...
... of how she danced for him, baring all her thoughts, and her whole heart, to him,...
... of how she leaned in close to him to give him reassurances that she would never leave him,...
... of how she protected him in her own unique way,...
... of how she sweetly called his name, over and over again,...
Won't you tell him please to put on some speed.
Follow my lead, oh, how I need,
Someone to watch over me.
... of how he doubted her kindness with simple, twisted words uttered by the enemy,...
... of how hurt he felt because he thought she lied to him,..
... of how he rejected her and her feelings that one day when she confessed her own undying affections towards him,...
... of how he thought of planning to mangle her body and expose her for what she truly was, only to find out that he was mistaken,...
... of how he chose power over her and drove the Yamato through her fragile body to acquire the power she has, the power she once used to search for him and to protect him unconditionally,...
... of how she once died before him,...
...
... of how she still loved him despite everything,...
“One of these days, and it won’t be long,
You’ll call my name and I’ll be gone,
Fare thee well, my honey, fare thee well.”
Won't you tell him please to put on some speed.
Follow my lead, oh, how I need,
Someone to watch over me,...
V opened his eyes, his senses finally returning to his own reality. It was already close to twilight, and the others were nowhere to be found as they were probably helping out with the search.
He was sitting at the sofa, his eyes instantly dropping on the things on the glass top table: the vintage record, the old porcelain doll that was Galatea, (Y/N)'s bloody and broken violin,...
... the pair of shoes she once used the first time they met,...
V took one of those shoes, the right one, which she threw and he caught that night, and held it close to his heart.
Then, he remembered his own words to her that day.
“Those feet, my Lady,… I would kiss,… over,… and over again,… if I could,… ”
His eyes stung, his heart feeling that same pang of pain once more. He brought the thing close to his lips, kissing it and pretended on fulfilling that foolish promise of his.
Being left by someone you loved,...
... it hurts.
It hurts so,... damn,... much,... you thought the pain will kill you,…
But, somehow, you’re still alive, and still dealing with the pain, alone and with no one to help you through that endless chain of sadness.
It hurts,…
... doesn't it?
***
XXX
***
🖤 Special thanks to these two wonderful people, namely @vergils-daughter and @capsule-cosplay , for helping me with the Russian and French dialogue and translations, and for giving the names of the Love And Vodka couple Petya and Natasha / Solange. 🖤
🖤 Also to @harlot-of-oblivion for teaching me something about the beautiful Language Of The Flowers to get one important and secret message across. 🖤
🖤 And to @brattyvitale , who I've briefly talked to in the past regarding the topic of break - ups, and for simply being a really nice and graceful person. Thank you so much. 🖤
🖤 @la-vita , @micaelagua , @yepps , @beyond-the-mirror , @ceruleanworld , @ehrzeth , @boundbysoul , @diabeticsugarush , @simmy-ships , @gothghoulfiend , @lessy86 , @heaven-on-a-landslide , and @krazy06 . 🖤
***
🖤🖤🖤
***
