Note: And with this, Jeremie's list officially draws to a conclusion. Thank you to everyone who came along for the ride, I hope you enjoyed it!
25. He loved Aelita, he did. Really.
Aelita chatters the whole train ride. Her left foot bounces up and down and she keeps raising and lowering her hand until Jeremie catches it in one of his, squeezes her fingers in his. "Relax," he laughs, voice thinner than he'd intended. He coughs to clear his throat. "You don't have to be nervous."
He isn't sure if he's reassuring her or himself. From the look on Aelita's face she isn't sure either.
"I just want them to like me," she says finally. Her eyes are fixed on the window, watching the landscape race back in a blurry panoramic.
Jeremie squeezes her fingers lightly. "They'll love you," he tells her firmly.
She tilts her head, runs a fingernail from her free hand over the seam in her skirt. He studies the way the sun gilds her skin, brings out the faint smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose and makes her green eyes sparkle like sea glass. He's still not completely used to the blonde hair, but he has to admit it looks good on her. He can't really imagine something not looking good on her.
"How can you be so sure?" she questions, voice drawing him from his contemplations.
"I just know," he replies, voice too honest for his liking.
/
His cousin Isabelle is stunning in her wedding gown. All lace and layers and things he knows nothing about, but he knows enough to say she's beautiful. Her strawberry blonde hair is curled and pinned with flowers speckled throughout it. She reminds him a bit of the illustrations in a fairytale book Aelita has.
Isabelle is all smiles and laughter as she pulls first him and then Aelita into a hug. Jeremie has never been close with Isabelle, the daughter of his father's cousin, but he's pleased to see her so happy. Her husband reminds him a bit of Odd, all wide smiles and a voice that carries across the open field where they have the reception after the ceremony.
His cousin is beautiful, as she should be, but his eyes are drawn to Aelita throughout the day. He can't help but watch the way she befriends his aunt and uncle, laughs with Patrick, chats with his cousins and miscellaneous family. If he hadn't seen her restraining herself from gnawing on her nails in the train, he never would've known she was nervous about today.
She's off to the side, talking with his father now, and Jeremie can't help but watch the way her hands flutter as she speaks. His father is nodding along, smiling as he listens. He can hear her laugh, carried on the warm breeze and he gets distracted watching the way her hair blows, the hem of her lavender dress flutters.
"Heya, cuz." Jeremie spares Patrick a glance as he joins him by the refreshment table. "That's the greeting I get?" Patrick laughs. "I just had to listen to Great-Aunt Helene go on and on about your girlfriend while I was photographing her for Isa. Kept saying she can't wait for your wedding."
Jeremie blinks, startled. "Wait, what? Aelita and I aren't…"
Patrick snorts into the cup of lemonade he's holding. "No? You're telling me you haven't thought about it? If even Great-Aunt Helene sees the way you look at her then you aren't as subtle as you think."
"Don't be ridiculous." Patrick stares at him. "What?" Jeremie demands. He can feel his neck flushing from the early summer sun and he feels warm in his jacket and tie. "What?"
"Nah, nothing," Patrick says, shaking his head. "Isa mentioned they'd be starting up the music and dancing soon. Think I can steal a dance with your future wife?"
Jeremie frowns while Patrick laughs and laughs. Curious eyes turn in their direction and Jeremie brushes past Patrick, accidentally knocking Patrick's arm so that lemonade spills over his cousin's grey trousers. Patrick just keeps laughing.
The thing is, though, that now the idea is there.
/
Aelita wanders along the perimeter of the vineyard, fingers trailing along the grape vines. Jeremie joins her, hands in his pockets as he listens to the DJ pumping out another of the Top 40 songs. The bright pop songs sound off in the venue, too modern for a vineyard in Jeremie's opinion. He thinks of classical piano before pushing the thought from his mind.
"What are you doing?" he asks.
Aelita glances up at him, smiling. Her freckles are more prominent from the sun and her cheeks are pink from the heat. "Just observing," she replies. "What about you?" She tilts her head toward the people milling about the makeshift dance floor and the linen draped tables. "You don't want to spend time with your family?"
Jeremie shrugs. "I honestly don't know most of them."
Aelita laughs, loops her arm with his, and starts wandering the perimeter of the vineyard again. "They're all very nice," she tells him. "I spoke with your aunt Helen? She's very sweet, but I get the feeling she's lonely."
Jeremie shrugs.
"Your father too." He glances at her, but she's staring off across the rows of vines and the softly rolling hills. "He won't say anything, but I just…get the feeling." She shakes her head and gives him another smile. "I can see where you get your sense of humor from."
Jeremie can't help but laugh at her words. "I don't think anyone's ever said that before," he scoffs.
Aelita simply tightens her hold on his arm. "I mean it," she insists. "You don't let it out often, but I can always tell when you're secretly amused by Odd's pranks. You have a mischief streak too, Jeremie Belpois."
Jeremie just shakes his head, but doesn't protest. They continue wandering until they come to a bench overlooking the vines and hills. Aelita pulls him down onto it, kicking off her heels and sighing as she rests her bare feet on the grass.
"It's beautiful out here," she says softly.
"Yeah," he agrees. He taps her knee lightly. "Here, give me your foot." She shifts, back against the armrest, and places her feet in his lap. He smiles as her head falls back when he begins rubbing the balls of her feet. "I can't believe you wore heels to a vineyard."
Aelita lets out a laugh and Jeremie can't suppress his smile as he watches her. He also can't stop himself from taking a firmer hold on one of her feet and tickling the arch. Aelita squeals, feet jerking, as she laughs.
"Jeremie!"
Jeremie holds on, grinning, until her face turns red with laughter and she leans over to hit him in the arm. "What?" he asks innocently.
"I told you, you have a mischievous streak," she gasps, smiling. She places her feet back in his lap though, leaning against the bench arm and he returns to rubbing the soreness from her feet.
. . … . .
"I just don't understand why you would choose this!" Jeremie exclaims. "Why would you throw away an opportunity to go traipsing through strange cities? You could be kidnapped!"
Aelita crosses her arms over her chest, looks away. It's the sign that she's fighting back tears. Jeremie's learned that tell from their endless rounds of arguing. He runs his hands through his hair. He doesn't want to fight. He just wants to understand.
"You don't get it," she says.
"That's the point! You have a full scholarship and you're just tossing it in the trash. And for what? So you can take a year off to go backpacking? That's the kind of stupid idea I'd expect from Odd, not you."
"This isn't about the scholarship," Aelita snaps. Her eyes are shining with unshed tears when she lifts her gaze to meet his, but her mouth is set in a hard line. It's an expression he doesn't recognize on her face. "This was never about the scholarship! This has been about you convincing yourself that I'm leaving you. Like I'm something you can control and keep under tabs. If that's what you wanted, maybe you should've kept me on Lyoko, and then you wouldn't have to worry about me running off and being stupid."
Jeremie feels as though he's been slapped, all the air punched out of his lungs. He stares at her and she stares back, eyes wide. Her hand raises, covers her mouth, and the tears finally break, spilling.
"Aelita-"
"I can't, Jeremie. Not right now." Her voice quavers and she hiccups, pushes past him and over to her bedroom door. She holds it open and doesn't meet his eyes. "Please, just go."
/
Jeremie wanders the school grounds long past curfew, before he makes his way to the top of the mathematics and science building. He has his head tilted back, staring up at the stars above and replaying the wounded, betrayed look in Aelita's eyes. The accusing bite to her words. The thought maybe I should've that he'd almost let slip. He pulls out his phone, dials the familiar number before he even realizes what he's doing.
"Jeremie? What is it? Is something wrong?"
"I screwed up, Papa. I screwed up big time."
The line is silent for a moment. "What is it, Jeremie?"
"Aelita and I had a fight…" his voice is wetter than he wants it to be. He blinks his eyes, stares up at the sky and tries to pick out familiar constellations. "About university. Again."
"What happened?"
"I just don't understand why she would give up a full scholarship to Sciences Po to go explore the world."
"Is it the scholarship, or the fact that she'd be leaving you behind, that bothers you?" His father's voice is patient, gentle. Jeremie feels the tension in his chest break and he sniffs. "Have you asked her why she wants to go on this trip?"
"She says it's to find herself, or see more of the world than just Kadic. But isn't that what university is for?"
"For some," his father agrees. He falls silent and Jeremie runs his fingers over the rough gravel rooftop.
"She thinks I just want to control her," Jeremie mumbles. He doesn't add that sometimes he worries he does too.
"Ah, Jeremie. You've always had the need to take charge. Sometimes taking charge means letting go. The fact that you're upset by this shows that you care. You need to show her that."
Jeremie scrapes his fingers along the gravel idly.
"Aelita is a bright girl, Jeremie. Sometimes it's hard to let that brightness go, we just want to stand there and bathe in the glow. But over time, that fire will diminish if it isn't properly cared for. It'll burn too brightly until all that's left is ashes. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Papa."
"Talk with Aelita, Jeremie. Really talk with her. And listen. You've always been good at observing, listen to what she's saying but also what she's showing you. You'll be alright."
/
"What are you looking at?"
"Lyra," he replies. He extends his hand, pointing out each of the main stars in the constellation. "The brightest star is vega, there." He hesitates. "In Greek mythology, lyra is the lyre of Orpheus. He was renowned for his music, and even charmed Hades when he went to the Underworld to rescue Eurydice, his wife."
Aelita shifts next to him, moving closer so that their shoulders brush. "That sounds like a good story," she says, voice soft. He can still hear the roughness in it from her earlier tears.
"That part is," he agrees. "Hades was charmed, but not a pushover. He told them they could leave, but Orpheus wasn't allowed to look back at Eurydice until they were free from the Underworld." He lets his arm fall back to the rooftop and Aelita's hand finds his.
"Orpheus let doubt come in and looked back when they were almost at the end of the journey," he continues. "Eurydice was sentenced to live in the Underworld forever as a result and Orpheus spent the rest of his days wandering around and strumming his lyre. In the end Orpheus's bones were buried by the muses and his lyre placed in the sky by Zeus." He takes a breath, remembers his father's words. "I always thought it was a silly story," he comments. "My mother loved Greek mythology, who knows why? But if you love someone, why would you doubt them, especially at the end of everything?"
Aelita shifts next to him, propping herself up on an elbow to stare down at him. "Jeremie…"
"I know this is something you need to do." He looks up at her and gives her a small smile. It hurts, but not as much as earlier, watching her face and hearing her words. "I'm not going to fight with you. It's okay."
A breeze picks up, bringing the smell of the fresh cut grass from earlier, and blowing strands of hair into her face. She brushes them back automatically and studies him. "Do you doubt me?" she asks. He can hear the unspoken question there as well: Is this why you are upset?
"No," he replies immediately, seriously. She gives him one of those dazzling smiles of hers and he feels his breath catch. "I've never doubted you." I've never wanted to control you.
"It's just a story," she tells him, "you don't even like mythology – it's too abstract, remember?" She leans in, presses her lips to his forehead. "We'll be okay." Her voice trembles and he reaches up, brushes his fingers over her cheek, studies her face.
"I know," he replies. "We always have been." She's still smiling when he pulls her in for a proper kiss.
"I'm sorry, about earlier," she murmurs when they pull away.
"Don't be," he replies. "I wasn't…I never wanted you to think I was trying to control you. I just…I just don't get it. But I don't want to stop you either."
Aelita sighs, tangles their fingers together and squeezes. "You and Ulrich and Odd and Yumi…You all have lived your lives. Actual lives. You have families and other places and…I've only known here and Lyoko. I just, I need to see what else is out there. It'll just be for one year."
Jeremie swallows past the lump in his throat. "I know," he says, voice soft. "I want you to have that too." He takes a breath. "I'll miss you."
Her head is heavy on his shoulder, her arm tight around his waist. He breathes deep, the smell of summer flowers and orange blossoms heavy in the air. "I'll miss you too."
. . … . .
Yumi visits him in the winter, stopping off before heading home for the holidays. Jeremie shows her around the campus and then his dorm. Yumi takes a look at the white walls and tan carpet, the sparse furniture and pile of books, and smiles.
"Reminds me of Kadic," she states. She wanders over to his bed and her fingers trace over the corkboard he'd put up. It's filled with the postcards Aelita has sent over the past few months. "Should I be offended that neither the boys nor I made it up? Or do we have a different shrine?"
He flushes. "Shut-up," he grumbles.
Yumi laughs and sits on his bed. "I'm just teasing. Aelita's postcards take up most of my wall too."
Yumi stays the night and they spend it rehashing old adventures and reminiscing on the people they had known. Jeremie watches the way Yumi moves around his room, the way she slouches against the wall and tosses a stress ball up and down. It's the most relaxed he's seen her in months, years.
"What?" she asks, catching him watching.
"University has been good for you," he states. She raises an eyebrow. "You look…content."
She offers him a small smile, tosses the stress ball again. He catches a glimpse of the dark ink on the inside of her wrist. He wonders if she still thinks about them, if she regrets the constant reminder. He wonders if others have asked about it, what she's said if they do.
"You do too," she says after a moment. "You look like you've actually been sleeping."
"Yeah," he agrees. He rubs at the bridge of his nose. "Unless Aelita calls…"
"Of course," Yumi agrees. She raises an eyebrow at him, mouth tugging into a smirk. "Some things never change, huh?"
Jeremie lets his gaze drift over to his desk and the picture frame there. It's an older one, when all five of them were still at Kadic. Yumi is sandwiched between Ulrich and Aelita while Odd makes some goofy face at the camera, and Jeremie is on Aelita's other side offering a faint, embarrassed smile. He doesn't remember what it was for now, but he's happy he has it.
"Maybe some things don't have to," he counters.
Yumi follows his line of sight to the photo and smiles. "Maybe they just evolve," she agrees.
He likes that idea, that they're simply entering their next stage. It's oddly reassuring.
. . … . .
He saves up all year to surprise Aelita in Geneva and seeing her in the train station had been worth it. Feeling her in his arms once more instead of just hearing her voice distant and tinny had felt like coming home. He'd never wanted to let her go again.
They spend three days in Geneva. The first day they spend wandering Old Town and visiting the Cathedrale de St-Pierre. Jeremie doesn't understand religion, he can't see putting your faith in something you can't see, but he can appreciate the architecture and the history behind the building. Aelita wanders the cathedral, staring avidly at the stained glass windows and running her hands idly along the pews.
"It's lovely, isn't it?" she asks. Her eyes are sparkling when she joins him by John Calvin's wooden chair.
"The chair?"
"The church," she replies, elbowing him in the ribs. He wraps an arm around her waist, smiles when he feels her head rest against his shoulder. "Some of the places I've seen, you can feel the history in them."
"I can't wait to hear all about them."
/
The second day they spend hiking Mont Salève. Jeremie doesn't understand why Aelita had insisted on hiking when there was a perfectly acceptable cable car located near where the bus had dropped them off. Aelita had simply laughed though, taken his hand, and lead him to the hiking trail. And so, here he is, an hour and a half later, puffing and gasping and trying not to look like he's ready to pass out.
Aelita shoots him an amused look. "Isn't this fun?"
"You're secretly trying to murder me, aren't you?"
"Oh, yes," she agrees, nodding. "My evil plan is coming to fruition." She pushes up from the rock she'd been perched on, photographing some stream. "Come on, we should nearly be there."
Jeremie sighs loudly and takes a drink from the water bottle they'd refilled in Monnetier. It takes approximately another hour for them to finally reach Salève and Jeremie does have to admit it was worth it. The view is pretty spectacular, with Geneva spread out below them and the clouds extending wispy tendrils to the mountains.
Aelita has her camera out already, approaching tourists to ask for a picture. She pulls him over to her, grinning brightly at the tourist holding up the camera. Jeremie tries to look like he didn't almost just die climbing the mountain.
"We're taking the cable car down," he tells her.
Aelita just laughs and kisses him.
/
Day three they end up at the Patek Philippe Museum and take the guided tour. Jeremie admits that he's never really thought about watches all that much, but listening to the tour guide and seeing the range of watches spanning the 16th to the 20th century, he's impressed. He can always value innovation and mechanics, and the museum hits an interest he hadn't realized he'd had. Aelita wanders the displays, examining the watches and commenting on their features and enamels.
"I think you'd look very distinguished with a pocket watch," she tells him, peering into a display cases. She points to a gold one with a deep blue center circle and constellations. "Like one of those."
Jeremie studies the watch. It reminds him of summer nights lying in fields and staring up at the stars while his mother pointed out the constellations. "Bit out of my price range," he comments.
After the museum they wander to Lake Geneva and explore the promenades. The cafés are busy with locals and tourists alike and they pause to take in the Jet d'Eau. The mist blown from the fountain feels refreshing in the warm afternoon. Aelita tilts her face up, letting the mist coat her skin and spangle her eyelashes.
"Do you think you found what you were looking for?" Jeremie asks. He leans on the railing and studies the lake.
Aelita leans against him, watches a pair of swans lazily gliding by. "I've seen a lot of things this last year," she replies after a moment. Her fingers play with the end of her braid. "I met a lot of interesting people, too. I don't think I'll ever want to stop exploring places." He nods, slipping his left hand into his pocket. He isn't surprised. Seeing her out here, wandering around and laughing, he'd known she would never be content to settle down in one place again. "But I do miss you."
Jeremie reaches over, tugs lightly on her braid. "I love you." She half-turns, looking at him curiously. "Sometimes I think I loved you since I first saw you."
"Jeremie?"
"Sometimes I wonder how I got so lucky to find you. Why me? You changed so much." He catches her hand with his, squeezes her fingers. "Because of you I got a great group of friends. I was forced to look up from the computer screen."
"Really?" Aelita teases. "Because I remember plenty of late nights involving a computer screen."
He rolls his eyes, turning to face her. "I'm trying to be serious."
Her eyebrow lifts along with the corner of her mouth. "I didn't realize you had to try."
He tugs the end of her braid again. "I'm not Ulrich," he retorts. That earns him a laugh and he smiles. "I'm serious," he adds after a moment. He ignores the smirk on her mouth. "I have loved every moment of you being here. You are brilliant and adventurous and care so much about everyone." She has that wide, infectious smile on again and he reaches up, brushes his thumb over the corner of her mouth. "I would do anything to see you smile like this every day."
He doesn't think, just drops to one knee and holds out the ring his father had given him during his last visit home, just in case. It had been his mother's engagement ring. A narrow gold band with tourmaline and small diamonds. Understated, delicate. Jeremie remembered the way the light shined off it when she would play the piano. At the time, he had flushed and scoffed at his father's suggestion, they were too young to consider marriage, but seeing Aelita here, he'd known.
Aelita freezes and he glances up to see that she's raised one hand to cover her mouth. "Jeremie."
"Will you marry me, Aelita?"
/
The original plan had been for him to go home to Reims and Aelita to continue on to Italy. When it comes time to purchase his ticket home he finds that he can't, and he switches last minute to Venice. "I hope you don't mind," he says, holding up the ticket to show Aelita. He can't help the wry smile on his face.
Aelita grins and kisses him in the middle of the train station. He can feel the metal of her ring cold against his skin. It burns like a brand, like a promise. It feels like forever.
"Never," she breathes against his mouth.
He pulls her closer, ignores the stares and catcalls, and kisses her in the middle of the Geneva train station.