AmelieMyrnin
Candle

I'd like to explain this one's setting really quickly. My headcanon is that, in the past, way before they even met Oliver, Amelie and Myrnin had a trip to Italy, and during this trip, they were 'dating'. I use that term loosely (I'm sure you can tell what I'm referring to) but that when their trip ended, their relationship returned to them being merely friends. That's why this is set there.

(And now my explanation is ridiculously long.)

The walls of Verona loom before them, dark and oppressive, and though they both know that they could scale the walls—or, most likely, burst through them—neither of them have this desire.

Neither of them want this evening to end; it's their second-to-last day in the country of Italy, and therefore it's the second-to-last day of this relationship they have, as per their unspoken agreement: a holiday romance to allow the feelings they have for one another out, so that the rest of their lives can be spent together as friends, without the question of what could have been.

"What are you thinking of?" Myrnin asks Amelie quietly as they stop still under the wall in a place where it's covered in luscious red roses. "What troubles you, my sweet Amelie?" he continues, tracing her face with his finger.

She sighs ever so slightly, pulling from his embrace to continue their walk back towards the town, and their home—their home for the next two days, at least. "I don't want the trip to end," she confesses, her voice barely more than a whisper. "It has been so beautiful, Myrnin, and I don't think that I can ever look at Paris in the same light, not after this splendour!"

Myrnin knows how she feels; their home in Paris is nothing compared to the elegance of the summer house they acquired for two months, yet they have had good memories there, also, something he hastens to remind her.

Amelie falls silent for the rest of their walk in the rural area of Verona, her fingers entwined with Myrnin's—for what reason, he cannot tell: does she want protection, or is it merely a way to allow her to grasp onto the vestiges of their summer romance?

She speaks as they pass a church, a group singing outside, their hands filled with flickering candles, each one to pay respect to a lost member of the town. As they pass, Amelie hands over a small amount of money and takes one from the person in charge, murmuring that she has lost someone close to her, and wants to pay her respects.

They don't consider that she could be lying.

"Our holiday is like this candle," she muses as they walk, one hand still wrapped into Myrnin's, the other holding the candle. Her eyes are on it, gazing intently into its flame, and Myrnin half wonders if she's planning on committing some sort of self-harm when she continues. "It burns, and as it does, it burns so brightly…but it can be put out with just one breath, just one gust of even a weak wind—just like us, in Italy, Myrnin. We have burned so brightly together, during this time, and yet it will end with one word: home. We are ending it so suddenly, and I don't want to go."

As she blows out the candle, Myrnin turns Amelie to face him, and he notices that her eyes are filled with tears. "Italy will remain in our hearts forever," he promises her, taking the candle from her and placing it in his pocket, "we will just return to how we are supposed to be: friends. Though I cannot say that we cannot burn brightly this evening; after all, our romance remains active, does it not?"

Amelie smiles as they walk back to their home, wondering if, perhaps, Myrnin is right, and that this isn't really the end—not at all.

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