~Author's Note~
Heyyyyaaaaa~! So I hope you all like it! It was not that hard to write but it was near the end... decisions that I'm making for this hopefully work out later! Well, enjoy this awaited chapter and see you all soon~!
Sincerely,
~Ms. AtomicBomb
The phone rang and Diarmuid almost threw it across the room, not because he has anger issues, but rather because people seemed to interrupt the two of them quite a lot when something was going to happen. He pulled back from the female, dropping his hands from her cheeks and gave her an apologetic smile, "Forgive me," he sighed and reached for his crying phone.
Arturia stopped his hand short and she stared him down with determination, "Surely it is not more important." She almost sounded like Gilgamesh when she thought about it, but she just wanted him to pay attention to her for once.
"It's my father, I must answer." His voice was a bit stern and she let go of his hand so that he could answer his phone. He spoke with confidence when he answered it, greeting his father with a smile on his lips. He held up his phone with his right hand as he pushed himself off the couch with his left, "Yes of course," he answered a question, "You won't be able to make it? But father… Okay, I understand. Of course… Yes,"
The female just sat still on the couch, frowning at the fact that he cared more about everything else instead of her. She knew that there were important things he had to have his attention on, and she respected that, but he was keeping her at the absolute bottom of his priorities and she was quite upset with the fact. She followed him into the kitchen as he was oblivious to her presence, "Diarmuid?" She called, maybe he would give her a bit of attention.
"No, it's not Scáthach," he turned to the blonde and held a finger to his lips as his cheeks grew a bright shade of pink, "Um… yes, I do…" he turned away from her, "No, I will not tell you her name."
Did he say he had a girlfriend? A smile slowly grew on Arturia's lips as she felt somewhat accepted.
"I would have introduced her at the family dinner. No, not anymore. Yes, she's pretty. Very pretty." The butterflies in Arturia's stomach grew and she slowly approached him again, this time from in front.
He blinked at her and then continued to talk to his father on the phone.
She was quite happy with the compliment and so she approached him and wrapped her arms around his torso and held him tight in place, "Thank you."
He trudged in and plopped down on the couch, a frown on his lips. His governess had said something but he was not paying attention in the slightest. His red eyes fell on the television and then he flipped it on. Some boring news came on screen and he did not know what to do, "Is he any better?" He mumbled, "I'm handsome, and funny, and… ugh who am I kidding? Of course she'd choose him."
"My lord, would you like something to eat?" His governess came again, standing next to him by the couch, "I will have it prepared by seven."
The young man looked up and frowned, "I do not want anything right now. Is father home yet?"
A smile on pale red lips gave him his answer, "Not as of yet, sir Gilgamesh."
"Right," he nodded softly, "He never is." Then he stood feeling the coldness of his big house all over again—today he could feel it even more than before. "Am I a good man?" He asked his governess, who else could he ask if his mother was locked up in her room and his father as absent as always. Even his little brother was not home for his grandparents favoured the little thing much more.
"Of course you are," She gave a bow of her head.
Gilgamesh turned towards her, there was something off about him and the woman noticed, "You don't need to lie… I know I'm a jerk. Well, what can I do about that?" He shrugged and shook his head, "Even if I change, it's too late because she only cares about that mutt anyways. Actually, I do want to eat something. Get me a salmon dish with caviar."
"Yes, my young lord." The middle aged woman seemed quite a bit concerned with the teenage boy's attitude but she knew better than to comment on the fact. She was afraid he would explode as he did the time she asked him about his father—it was not a pretty sight to be near him when he became furious.
He stomped up the stairs, his frustration growing with every step. He was rather upset with the fact that he just was never going to be happy. Arturia had never even looked at him, but he sure liked her for a while and then he noticed how kind Jeanne truly was and how great and—and just overall how she was probably the best choice for a girlfriend… but then again, she too did not even glance at him romantically.
Just thinking about this was getting him more agitated. He really had to stop going after girls that he knew were not going to accept his feelings. Oh god, this was super hard. Then he grabbed his phone and decided to make a call… he had forgotten about his original mission and he needed to go back to it. If he couldn't have what he wanted, of course others weren't.
"Hello? Oh yes, Grainne… We need to meet up."
Cú and Jeanne stood in front of her house, he held her hand as he turned to look at her, a smile on his face. He thought it had been better to end the date after the ballet because he hoped that she would want to go out again. As well as there wasn't much they were talking about; just class and other stupid little subjects.
"Jeanne…" He was getting nervous all over again, her violet eyes were simply so intimidating in their innocence and kindness. He'd met ladies much prettier than Jeanne but there was something about this girl that had him completely wrapped around her finger.
"Yes?" She blinked, her short and curly eye lashes catching some stray snowflakes. The smile on her lips was causing him uneasiness.
The Frenchwoman was also having lots of anxiety by merely standing in front of Cú, her heart was thumping in her chest and she wondered if he could feel her heartbeat by her wrist. She brought her spare hand up to move the snowflakes from her lashes because they were quite annoying what with blocking her vision with white spots here and there. She took note that her hand was shaking with anticipation so she refrained from rubbing her eye for fear that he would see her all nervous—she was having no trouble hiding her anxiety with her facial expression, however.
Cú's gaze dropped for a second as he collected his thoughts—or maybe himself—"Well, do you want to be my girlfriend?"
She gulped, "I have to ask my parents," she repeated her previous statement without neither a smile or a frown.
"I know, I know," he nodded quickly, "Do you want to be my girlfriend? Not do your parents want you to be my girlfriend. As if you did not need to ask them for permission, would you, only you, want to be my girlfriend?" His red eyes narrowed—not with anger, but rather curiosity. He wanted to know her feelings towards him, he wanted her to tell him that she liked him back.
A blush coloured her cheeks the way a painter presses his brush against a canvas; pale skin being painted with a sweet rose. She slowly nodded, "Why do you think I'm asking for my parents' permission. I like you, Cú, I do…" She ran her teeth over her lower lip and then glanced at the door beside her, "That's why I want to do things the right way."
The young man took a hold of her face, tilting it towards him and just a little bit upwards so that he could look her in the eyes. He had a smirk on his face—the famous Cú smirk—and there was a glow in his red eyes (it could have been determination; Jeanne was not certain).
He leaned in closer, bringing her face towards him with every passing second. Her eyes flickered closed and she welcomed his actions with knowledge this time around. She knew she was going to be embarrassed but she wanted a chance to kiss him back this time. Her heart hammered in her chest just as she felt his warm breath on her lips while her hands landed on his chest.
The squeaky door was what made Jeanne push Cú Chulainn off and almost slip to fall back on his butt. She was utterly embarrassed but she couldn't show a single clue of the fact that they were almost about to kiss. Her head flipped towards the door in an instant, an innocent smile on her face. Her purple eyes slightly widened at the face of her brother, but she stopped herself.
Cú had found his footing again and faced the doorway as well, a smirk on his lips as he nodded at the presence of the older boy, "Good evening,"
The blond boy leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms over his chest, "Hello. Who are you?"
Jeanne was nervous again—but this time because she was afraid her brother would make her crush run off and never return. Jean was one to bark and bite, and his bite hurt like hell—but then again, Cú was a 'bad boy'.
"Cú Chulainn," he extended his hand, "It's a pleasure to meet you."
The young man glanced at Jeanne and then back at the blue-haired male, "You can drop the 'gentlemanly' act, it's not needed." He rolled his eyes, clucking at the end, "Come on, Jeanne, let's head inside."
Jeanne frowned and nodded at Cú as to bid him a farewell, mumbling as small goodbye and she trickled into her house like a dog with it's tail between it's legs. She knew her brother cared for her, but sometimes he shouldn't be so mean.
"Jean, I like him. A lot." Jeanne spoke as the two teenagers made it to the kitchen, "And all I ask of you is to help me out."
The blond sat down, his brows furrowed and a frown on his lips, "He's not even that good looking. I always keep telling you that Gawain is the way to go."
"I know that Gawain is a nice guy, but I like Cú," Jeanne felt a bit upset because her brother had been trying his best to secretly get Gawain and Jeanne together but after the both of them clearly denied having feelings for one another, he was actively speaking about one to the other, "He asked me out today."
Jean cracked his knuckles—not in an intimidating way—"And you want me to put in a good word to papa and maman, right?"
The young lady nodded rapidly, "Yes, please. I know that you both haven't really met, but please. Help me out this once."
It was as if on cue that her mother came down the steps and entered the kitchen, "Oh, you're home sweetheart. How was school?" Brown eyes glimmered as the woman tightened the green blanket around herself, "Do you want something to eat?"
"It's okay, maman." A bright smile adorned Jeanne's face, "And school went well. But I wish to ask father and you a question."
Her mother blinked and tilted her head slightly, "Oh, is that so? Well, we must wait for Jacques to get home then."
It wasn't until a bit later that her father got home and it was time for them to speak. Jeanne stood in the middle of the living room and faced her parents with a big smile; this was it, the first time that she (possibly) could have a boyfriend, "Papa, maman, I wanted to ask you something very important." There were butterflies in her stomach and the shaking of her bones in anxiety.
Her father looked at her through blue eyes and scrunching his nose, lifting the mustache over his top lip a little, "And what might that be, ma petite pucelle?" There was a smile on his lips but she knew he was weary of her awaited question.
She took a deep breath, squeezing her hand and biting the inside of her cheek, "There's a boy I like," she heaved, "and he asked me to be his girlfriend... I-I," her nerves were killing her at this point, she was probably going to faint, "I want to ask you for permission to date him."
Her mother's face lit up in an instant, a grin on her face, her eyes squinted, cheeks a little pink as she giggled and clapped her hands together, "Oh sweetie! Why yes you can! This is amazing, dear, out little girl has herself a good boy." Isabelle looked over at her husband and landed a hand on his arm, "Oh please say yes."
The smile on Jeanne's lips grew as her mother was willing to let her date.
"No." Jacques deadpanned, furrowing his brows together and casting a glare beyond Jeanne—as if her crush was there, "Absolutely not." He always had the final say in whatever it was; food, games, dating; anything. And Jeanne respected that.
That poor girl dropped her smile quicker than bullet and she nodded slowly, part of her thought it was unfair but she knew better than to judge her father's decisions because she knew he always had her best interest at heart, "Thank—"
"Father, I think you should give him a chance." It was her older brother to interrupt her, causing the female to shoot her head towards him in an instant, along with the couple's, "I've seen him twice... and he seems to be a presentable guy. You could give him a shot, maybe he'll impress."
"Oh, that is so true. How about we invite the young man over for dinner? Wouldn't that be lovely?"
Jacques grumbled, and crossed his arms over his chest leaning back on his seat. He seemed to be truly thinking about the proposition that was made by both his son and his wife. He looked at Jeanne's hopeful violet eyes and gave a reluctant nod, "Alright. One shot, I hope he doesn't throw it away. This Tuesday at seven in the evening. If he's not there, then he lost his chance."
Diarmuid discarded his phone on the counter top (completely forgetting about his father on the line) and pulled away from Arturia's hug before finding his resolve again and lifting her up—earning a squeak from her part—and finally placing her on the counter top as well. Arturia could see a different look in his eyes just as he took her face in his hands again and brought her closer.
Arturia heard the faint voice of his adoptive father calling out to him on the cellphone before she let herself fall into her boyfriend's lead. His lips brushed against hers ever so lightly and seeing as he wasn't going to advance, she grabbed a hold of his tie and pulled him down. Their lips pressed against each other and she slowly drifted her hand over his shoulder and tangling it in his smooth hair. There was no shock, no lightening; just a feeling in Arturia's gut that it was meant to be like this.
She pulled him closer and he slowly began to kiss back—hesitation in every movement he held, even the delayed act of setting his hands on her waist. He was scared, but she was very calming; just as he thought, the pit in his heart was temporarily gone, the image of Youth in his mind vanished just for that little while.