Pineapples - Frenchie x Kimiko Oneshots

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Synopsis: Post season 2. Frenchie finds Kimiko in the middle of a panic attack, and while he helps her get out of it, their feelings starts to make sense.

Words count: 1424

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It was being a hard night.

No matter how much he tried, Frenchie didn't seem to be sleeping any soon, and considering that he was trying to get clean, he couldn't take as many pills as he would usually.

Getting clean sucked. But he was going to make it as far as he could. For her, for himself, and for... Them.

A sheepish smile crossed his lips as he looked to the ceiling.

"Them..." Such a petit word and yet such an important meaning.

Them meant that he wasn't alone anymore, meant that when all that shit in the world came after him again, he would have something worth fighting for. And that conclusion were both amazing and scary.

So he got up from the bed, his bare feet slightly touching the cold floor as he walked to the kitchen. Kimiko seemed to hear everything, and he didn't want to disturb her sleeping. She hadn't slept well in a while.

A long while.

It was almost like a rule, the infamous 'you survived the war, now deal with the trauma' always came to haunt both of them in the night. Serge was used to it, after all, the night terrors, the hours awake and all the things in between were part of his life since he was a little boy, but with her it seemed different. The trauma was too much, the pain was too much.

And like the universe were talking with him at that exactly moment, once he entered the kitchen he heard a sound. And it broke his heart.

It sounded like a wounded animal, a sound of agony stuck in the throat forever.

Serge turned on the light afraid of what he was going to find, cause deep in his mind he already knew. Nonetheless, Knowing didn't make it any less painful.

Cause kneeling under the round kitchen's table was Kimiko, her legs too close to her chest, her eyes too wide and red. And when those same eyes fixed on him he felt his heart break. He felt it hurt like never before.

"Mon Coeur..." He murmured while walking to her, the woman's eyes following his movements, her expression gradually softening from undeniable fear to a crushing sadness, like she only then had recognized him. "What happened?"

He kneeled in front of her, being cautious enough not to break into her personal space, even though his soul desperately wanted him to hold her in his arms until all the pain was gone; wanted him to make her feel better.

She didn't move her hands, she didn't even try to communicate, and that scared the hell out of him. Instead, she just shook her head violently, her whole face expressing what she couldn't exteriorize with signs.

"I'm so sorry, Mon Coeur, so so sorry" His voice was softly- spoken, even though he were running his fingers through his own hair in a nervous gesture, desperately trying to find the right thing to say, the right thing to do.

But thinking wasn't working, he had to act.

So in very slow movements he slid under the table and sat by her side. The scene seemed familiar, like a déjà vu of some kind, but he was not going to think about that other night. The damned night when he messed up and attempted to kiss the woman while she was grieving. He had already scolded himself enough for that. He was going to do it right this time.