Three promises. She had made him three promises. Stay safe, don't come home with a boyfriend, and remember to smile. Only three, the same three as usual, and yet she couldn't even keep one.
The first, she'd broken almost immediately. Stepping into the road to grab her wind-snatched hair ribbon, Erika had completely forgotten that cars drove on the other side of the road in this country, and was nearly crushed twice. Once by a gigantic black Land Rover that had come bearing down upon her, and the second time by Ivan, who succeeded in pulling her out of harm's way, but almost suffocated her by hugging her in relief.
The second, she'd never seen as an issue. Although she was sure that she could if she wanted to, Erika had never had, nor desired, a boyfriend. Even if her partner was Eros himself, she'd much rather talk than flirt. As it had played out, she still didn't want a boyfriend, and couldn't see that changing anytime soon. Almost as soon as Nataliya opened the door, wearing only a navy blue jumper dress despite the cold weather, she had known something was different. She'd worked out exactly what falling asleep that night.
The third… she always saw the third as the hardest to keep. Erika never quite understood her own emotions, preferring to cue her reactions from those around her. Of course, this meant she had no idea how to react to more personal events – like her first crush, or being alone in a strange country without any idea how to find the airport. Usually, she had decided, her older brother made her smile. She had thought Nataliya made her smile too, that for once it would be easy to keep her promise, but now she didn't know what to think. Nataliya had been wonderful. Had made her feel wonderful. Then Ivan had appeared, and… Erika knew that she hadn't imagined being pushed away like that, and it hurts her a lot more than the bruise on her shin would suggest.
Three promises, three simple promises, and the first was broken outright, the second broken in spirit if not in name, and the last? The last was a shattered mess, exactly how she was feeling. It had been hard not to cry, so hard, when Nataliya had thrown her away like a used tissue, and she probably hadn't succeeded.
With a heavy heart, she stepped off the plane, wondering how she could explain her mistakes to Basch. He always seemed so organized, so sensible – she wasn't worried that he'd be cross with her, but the fear of his carefully hidden disappointment was far worse than it would have been for any theoretical punishment.
In the end though, there was nothing to be done but to face the music, and try to remember the steps.
A/n: uncreative-lesbian-fangirl, this is your doing entirely. (c: