Alright beans!
This fic was inspired because my depression was getting the best of me. I tend to get the feeling that I'm not good enough for the people I care about, and I have a hard time making ends meet in an emotional way.
I've made a lot of mistakes in my past that nearly cost me my life. Though at some point that became the reason why I did those things.
I will have you know that I'm a lot better. Depression spells happen pretty rarely lately.
Only issue is my best friend has pretty much disappeared from my life.
I'm just thankful that I have all of you, some of you have been with me longer than others but each of you chose to click on this story and by doing that you are supporting me.
So I thank you.
If you have any questions about my journey through life or how I survived and am still surviving this difficult thing called life, I'd love to talk with you about it.
And without further ado, I bring to you!
Making Ends Meet (A GabrielXEmilie fic)
Gabriel Agreste Age 19
My keys jingle as I unlock the door to my studio apartment. After a long grueling days work at the textile factory I need a hot shower and a warm dinner. It wasn't that long ago I quit my job working for my father's mega real estate company.
I believe his exact words were, "You need to get your head out of the clouds and stop this nonsense! Scribbling on paper will never be profitable! I will not allow my son to throw his life away for scribbles!"
So, I packed my bags and left without another word.
Emile greets me with one of her stunning smiles. A smile that doesn't deserve to suffer as the husband of a factory worker. She deserves to be treated like royalty.
I wince when she pulls me into a hug, not because I don't constantly want her in my arms, but because I'm caked in dirt, sweat, and grime.
When she pulls away her eyes wash over me and I'm ashamed of myself. I work barely above minimum wage to make ends meet for my wife.
My beautiful wife how could I have let this happen to us?
"Gabe?"
I stare at my torn up work boots.
"Gabe, please. Look at me," she pleads as she rests a hand on my cheek.
When I do, she stares back at me with concern flooding her normally excitable green eyes.
"Where is my husband?" she asks.
"I'm right here Emilie, I never left," I mumble.
"No… I do not see him. My husband is a great man with a fiery spirit and will power. My husband commands attention with a single word. My husband is a free spirited artist and designer. Not a factory worker who is so ashamed of himself that he won't look at me."
"I'm sorry, Em," I whisper, suddenly hurt by her words.
"No, don't apologize, you have work to do. Every day you will get out your pencils, rulers, and markers and you will draw."
I stare at her confused.
"My father threw them away remember?" I ask.
"That's what he thought he did. I collected them from his assistant and hid them until the time was right."
"Why would you do that? I'm not even a good artist." My eyes cast to the ground once more.
"No, you're not a good artist, you're not even a mediocre artist. You're and amazing one. The clothes you used to sew for the children down the road were exceptional! I knew I couldn't let you give up on your dream to become a designer. I wouldn't be a decent wife or a decent friend if I had," she admits.
"You've heard of Audrey Bourgeois right?"
"Well yeah, she's only the youngest and best designer in all of Europe. Who doesn't know her?" I laugh in spite of myself.
"Well, I sent her a couple of your personal favorite sketches in the mail."
My eyes snap her hers. "What?!"
"Calm down Gabe, she loved them and is requesting you send her a full portfolio of your twelve best pieces, including a panel of how you go about the design process, by the end of the year."
But that's less than three months away!
There's no way that she actually liked my designs is there?
This is Audrey Bourgeois we're talking about here!
If she liked my art then I can't let her down!
One problem…
"I'll never have time to finish it all before the deadline with work in the way." I realize aloud.
"That's why you're going to quit. I took a job working in the marketing business. It's not much but it'll get us through until you're working with Audrey." She smile and her thumb runs across my cheek.
"No, Em, you don't need to do this for me," I protest.
"You're right, I don't need to. I want to because I can't bear to see you working in those factories with twelve hour shifts any longer. They're taking away every bit of spirit you still have left and I beg you to fight that."
She leans in and kisses me, her skin softer than silk against my chapped lips.
"I'll do anything for you, Gabe."