A collection of concepts that may develop into stories. More is below the surface than we imagine.
Let me know what you think if you like. I love to hear feedback. :)
Sonderlee.
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Misunderstood
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Gabriel Agreste sets down his mug of tea and rubs his temples, letting a sigh escape his lips. Every day the inevitable draws closer, and he is powerless to stop it.
He should head to the basement soon to check her vitals, but he almost can't bear to any longer. Her chest rises and falls with shallow breaths and every day she grows paler, as though she is fading away. She is as silent as the grave.
Gabriel's eyes lift to glance at her portrait on the wall, and she smiles lifelessly back at him. What is she thinking right now? Does she hear his voice when he sits with her, whispering comforting words and shedding private tears?
Does she have awareness at all?
His heart begins to ache, and he turns away to the window. Adrien is down on the patio, leaning against the bannister with a vacant smile plastered on his face, a perfect replica of his mother.
"I'm doing this for you, son," he whispers into the air. Is that what he's trying to convince himself? Gabriel isn't sure. His mind feels clouded, like the stubborn fog of pollution that often descends over Paris.
.
The sun is setting when his secretary, Nathalie, finally arrives home. She is the picture of stress: a frown, stiff shoulders and palpable aura of frustration.
"Audrey Bourgeois is hounding me again," she says dispassionately. "Could you please call her?"
"Let her simmer a little longer," Gabriel replies. The patience required for such a feat was off the charts – not something he had right now.
Nathalie's eyebrow cocks – the tiniest twitch – but then she is running down the list of everything else to catch up on, and the self-proclaimed Queen of Fashion is once again moved to the bottom of the pile.
When all is exhausted, Nathalie snaps her clipboard shut and turns to leave. He reaches out his arm to stop her and she turns expectantly, "Anything else, sir?"
Gabriel lets go of her sleeve and asks, "How is Adrien holding up after today?"
"Well enough, it seems," she says. "But I wouldn't know for sure. His privacy rivals your own… you should talk to him."
Nothing is more painful. He only wishes he could.