BONJOUR:)

I'm sorry D: I had a french exchange over and I like haven't had a single second to myself in ages :'( But she's really nice though so it's ok:)

omg thankyou everyone for your comments:) They're all so nice and I love reading them xox

Tristan

Curled into a ball in the middle of my bed, the sheets lay straggled across her, her hair falling carelessly over the mattress. I sighed and rolled over in my brothers bed, having managed to convince Uriel to stay in Wills room last night, I hadn't moved Poppy from the spot where she collapsed into. Exhausted and drunk, she had all but passed out on my bed, and I frowned in the dim light of dawn, remembering the events that had taken place.

The phone call.

She would no doubt have forgotten the most of our conversation, highly intoxicated and high on the moment, but I wasn't foolish enough to think that she would have forgotten making the phone call alltogether, and she would want answers from me.

The question was, how much information do I give her?

I was conflicted as to whether I should just reveal all that she had revealed, or cause her less pain, and lie about the extent to which she had revealed herself. I turned onto my back, gazing up at the ceiling, light begin to spill into the room from the window, the sound of Poppy's gentle breathing being the only seeming like the only sound in the world. A fly on the wall caught my attention, its miniature wings flapping to the beating of my heart, as a soft buzzing filled my ears. I couldn't be bothered to move however, so I waited until it had flown someplace else before turning my head to look at Poppy.

My soulfinder.

I had never known it would be so difficult.

That's not how the stories go is it. The soulfinders love each other, from the minute they set eyes on each other, from the moment they hear each others voice, from the second they sense the other ones presence. But people overestimate the difference between a human and a savant. Savants can be broken. Their hearts and their minds can be damaged. Is it possible to love somebody, if your eyes have never seen a love so true before? Is it possible to trust a person if all that you have previously trusted have deceived you? Is it possible to not run away from love, if every other love you have experienced has been destructive, and harmful to you and your family?

Maybe all you need is somebody to show you how beautiful love can be.

Crap. I think I love her.

Right on cue, Poppy sighed and rolled onto her back, eyelids fluttering open as she blinked and registered the daylight. She stretched her arms above her head, yawning, before closing her eyes and relaxing back into the warmth of the bed.

Then, all of a sudden, her eyes sprang open once again, and she shot up in the bed gazing around the room until her eyes came to rest on me, lying in a bed exactly parallel to hers, 5 feet away, wearing nothing but sweatpants, staring at her. I cringed mentally at how creepy I must've looked, but dismissed the thought as she collapsed once again onto the bed, sighing.

'What happened last night?' Her voice ragged from sleep, she turned her head on the pillow to look at me, eyes blazing into mine as she searched for the truth.

I avoided eye contact. 'I found you in a club off Reedham street, pretty drunk and giggling with your new best friend. I said you should go home and you ... agreed with me, but you didn't want to go back to your house, so I took you back here.' That was probably the best way to deal with the situation, but I could tell from the look in her eye that she didn't believe me.

Poppy

He was lying to me.

It was difficult to tell through the painful buzzing in my head, but I could tell that he was lying to me. Something serious must've happened last night that he wasn't telling me about and I was intent on finding out what.

I sat up in the bed and turned to sit cross legged, thankful that I had not decided to change into a more club suitable outfit last night, and had stayed instead in leggings.

yayay/set?id=86624152

Fiddling with my messy hair I grabbed the beanie I saw lying to the side of the bed and slipped it onto my head, as Tristan stared at me, deep in thought. I pointed to the hat and cocked an eyebrow at him.

'Look ok?'

He grinned, eyes shining. 'Looks perfect.'

I smiled but as he stood up out of bed, revealing a set of toned abs in the form of a six pack, I swallowed a lump in my throat, trying not to look at him too hard, keeping vigorous eye contact.

He noticed, smiling cheekily at me and stretching. 'See anything you like?' He questioned me.

His smile was infectious and I found it easier to talk to him in a hotel room, with no complications of the outside world. 'On you?' I pretended to scan his body carefully. 'You know ... I can't see anything the least bit appealing.'

His smile dropped and he advanced on me, his voice lowering as he came closer. 'Are you sure about that?'

I nodded, but tensed, not liking the glint in his eye.

'One last chance to change your mind ...' He stood directly in front of me, stomach level with my eyes and I had to stretch my neck upwards to see his face, edging slowly away as he realised I was determined. 'fine then, you leave me no other option.'

I sprang up on the bed, one second too slowly as he pulled me into his chest and began to tickle me.

The one thing I can't stand.

Thirty seconds seconds later I had agreed that he was the most beautiful creature on the planet, and was sitting in-between his legs on the floor, my back resting against the front of his body, his arms wrapped around my waist as we watched tv.

'You know,' he began 'It's very useful to know that you're ticklish.' I sensed the smile on his face and frowned.

Shifting my head to look at him he smirked even more at the grumpy expression on my face. 'Ugh, that's so unfair.' With the adrenaline rush of the chase from Tristan, I had temporarily forgotten about my headache, but once recovered it came pounding back with increased ferocity. I gingerly placed a hand on my forehead and sighed. Hangovers were the painful part.

The tv drummed out the theme tune to Eastenders and I relaxed into Tristan's arms, comforted by the sound of well known voices and actions. However my headache wasn't going away anytime soon, and so I forced myself to move away from his arms in order to stand.

'Do you have any aspirin?'

Tristan creased his eyebrows together in concern and stood with me, running a hand through his hair. 'I don't think so, but I know that drinking lots of water is good for hangovers.'

I moved to grab a glass and fill it, enjoying the refreshing sensation of refreshment running down my throat. I realised how parched I actually was, moving to fill my glass again.

I smiled at Tristan. 'You're right, that did help thanks.'

I stood by the window, taking in the panorama view of London, deep in thought, when I felt a pair of arms wind around my waist. I turned in his arms to smile sadly up at him, trying to concentrate on the memories of last night. I remembered Tristan coming to find me, Linday, and a phone call to somebody but for the life of me I couldn't remember who it was to.

'Are you ok?' Tristan pulled me closer into his chest.

I wrapped my arms around his waist, enjoying the long hug and sighed. 'Yeah. I just ... I need to remember last night. I feel like I've done something ... something ... huge ... and I ...' I struggled to concentrate as Tristan traced circles with his fingers on my back, leaving shivers along my spine, as he leaned down to kiss my forehead. 'Ugh, I can't concentrate with you doing that.' I claimed as I pulled away from him to sit cross legged on the bed.

Tristan pulled his face into a half smirk and sat down next to me on the bed.

'Did I say anything weird to you?' I questioned him.

He closed his eyes for a couple of seconds before looking down at me once more. 'You say weird stuff all the time Poppy, You didn't do anything more whacky that I can remember.' He winked at me, but I could tell there was something slightly forced about the action.

Before I had time to confront him, there came a knock from the door, and in strode a tall hispanic looking boy, wearing a biker jacket and worn jeans. His gaze briefly slid over to me as he walked in to the room, but he turned his attention to Tristan almost as quickly as he had glanced at me.

'Dad wants to talk to you. Something about the flight got mixed up and he's blaming you because you booked the tickets. Looks like you've got another night with hipster over here.' He jerked his head in my direction and turned on his heel to walk out the door again.

Tristan frowned. 'Don't mind Zed, he's just stressed because he's been away from his soulfinder for over a week now, and don't worry about his subtle attempts to freak you out, he won't tell anyone you're here.'

'He's your brother, the one you were telling me about? The one who had an English soulfinder like your other brother Yves?' I fiddled with a strand of hair dangling near my eyes.

Tristan nodded as he grabbed a T-shirt from a draw in the room and slipped it over his head.

'How do you feel about doing something today?'

I examined my nails, feigning disinterest. 'hmm, something like what?' I risked a glance at his face, his mouth spread in a smirk at my action.

'How about the fete in that green near here? Or do you not want to be seen in public with such an ugly human being?'

I smiled remembering our earlier discussion and he grabbed my hand lifting pulling me from my seat.

'C'mon, I'll give you a lift.' You laughed as he lifted me onto his back and piggy backed me down the stairs into the street.