" memories are the bittersweet parts of life. "
a little angst before I get
started on another request.
also, please listen to the song above
to get the desired effect.
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"So first, you strum these strings, which should give you a chord." You guided jean's hand across the guitar and nudged his fingers to the correct fingerings. He gently plucked them, following your lead, and as expected, a harmonic chord swept through the air.
"Huh," he smiled, prideful in his accomplishment. You pressed your body against him, sliding your arms around his waist and nuzzling your head into his chest.
"You know I love you so much, right?" you murmured.
"Mhm," he purred, squeezing you affectionately. You smelled like smoke and flowers as he buried his head in the back of your neck. You squealed and laughed, trying to pry him off of you. He loved you more than words could tell.
That was entirely true.
Stop it.
Jean watched from the top of the snowy hill on the training grounds as you took a running start and dove down, sliding down the hill on your chest, yelling as you caught a small bump and flipped over, rolling down the remainder the way.
When you flipped over at his feet, out of breath and smiling, your body was soaking wet and covered in little ice crystals. You didn't seem hurt, though, only a bit cold.
"Next time you're coming down with me." you grabbed his sleeve and pulled him down on top of you, pressing your lips against his.
Please.
"Oi! Come back down here!" Jean commanded as you sat crouched in the highest sycamore branches and made faces down at him.
"Maybe if you weren't such a clutz with your ODM gear, you could come up here and get me yourself!" you teased, stretching out on the broad branch and swatting at the leaves.
"D-don't mock me!" he shouted, flustered. This particular afternoon he was having technical issues with his gear, and his wires kept getting tangled, causing him to end up hanging upside down most of the time. You loved to tease and prod him for it.
It hurts.
"Sing for me," you proposed, nudging him with your shoulder.
"Eh?! I can't just sing for you on that short notice! I need time to warm up my beautiful vocal skills." he cleared his throat and began to sing an old song badly; he said his mother had forced him to learn, but you were pretty sure he made it on the spot. There was no harmonic value whatsoever, and all the notes clashed together.
"Ok, ok, that's enough," you broke into a fit of giggles, laying your head down on the table.
"It wasn't that bad! Not like you could do any better!" he sat down and crossed his arms with a sour pout, and glared at you sideways.
"Aww, you big baby. Wanna bet?"
I miss her.
It was quiet.
The wind had dulled down to a soft murmur through the trees, brushing up against the branches and clicking them together in a sad rhythm.
Jean stood alone in the middle of a field, holding a small bouquet surrounded by dying roses and sweet-smelling lilies. He was smiling, despite having a familiar ache in the pit of his heart. He felt like this was the end of an era, like some moving-up ceremony for his emotions.
He placed the flowers down on the grave that sat before him.
"Happy anniversary."
