𝕒𝕕𝕚𝕖𝕦 - 𝕡𝕖𝕕𝕣𝕠 𝕡𝕒𝕤𝕔𝕒𝕝

𝕤𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟

the first time pedro really saw cass was by the soft light of the lit-up '21' candles that lit up her face. he noticed how the yellow light highlighted every peak and darkened every shadow in her face, adding to the soft, melancholic eyes, glossed over.

he left a tinge of guilt in his chest as he saw her smile, holding back tears as the rest of the polyglot chorus sang happy birthday. usually, pedro wouldn't consider himself a sadist but goddamn, was cass pretty when she cried. this is where the guilt came from; he didn't know if it was a coincidence or not for her to be crying the first time he really thought of her true beauty. he supposed it was.

pedro had never seen cass that way, in an attractive way, when he'd gone to mallemort that summer, he'd just gotten to know a young girl with incredible wit. besides that nothing had truly caught his eye. he was so wrapped up in getting his character right, in staying true to the essence that the late guillaume cunningham was trying to help him convey, so focused on working, that he didn't notice the beauty of the place or the people around him to its full extent. after only a few hours of being back in the place it was like it was a whole new world under a completely different lens.

sadly, the circumstances for him to rediscover all this beauty were under the guise of visiting the town for the anniversary of guillaume's death. he'd died the year before in his new york apartment of a stroke, or a heart attack, pedro didn't really remember exactly. to him it wasn't much of a surprise, he was old, and while working with him before he'd died his declining health was visible.

cass blowing at the candles snapped pedro back to reality, making him let out a small, sympathetic smile as she leaned into her aunt's side as a few tears rolled down her cheeks.

"god, i wish he was here." she mumbled quietly so as not to be heard, but all of them heard her. the constant of her family surrounding her every year during her birthday was disturbed by her father's death, and it all felt extremely out of place for her. it was an uncomfortable feeling, a hole in her chest when usually she'd be overflowing with joy. even if it had been almost a year, the wound in her heart was still fresh, especially now. it was her dad, after all.

as everyone sat around the large table under the lemon tree in the orchard, as was tradition, pedro couldn't help but stare at cass. he tried to go unnoticed as he looked at her blushed cheeks, calming down from her crying, taking a piece of cake as she put her head on pierre's shoulder absently, talking to hélo next to her.

he silently hoped to god she and pierre were still only friends, but just as that thought came into his mind he shut it off. i'm being irrational. i can't have feelings for her right now, not like this. this is dumb.

pedro tried to get her off his mind by continuing his conversation with cass's aunt astrid, who sat next to him, talking about some play that she'd seen done by some producer that he knew. he was unbelievably tired, but he stayed up for the special occasion, trying to keep up with the woman's intellectual conversation, and doing his best not to fall asleep. even if he was absolutely exhausted and trying to do all this, he caught himself stealing a few glances of cass, who was smiling, later laughing at something pierre said. quickly removing his gaze from her, turning back to the conversation. he felt a yawn coming along. not wanting to offend astrid, or any others he was demonstrating exhaustion-based boredom to, he excused himself, blaming the jetlag, and before walking off he took another look at cass.

there was an air to her that came to him as a long-known epiphany. he'd previously acknowledged the fact that she was cool in every sense of the word, a soft, pretty ethereal smile and blush covering her face most of the time. but not like this, not in the way that made his gut drop and his stutter become more prominent as he talked. pedro hated himself for thinking about her like this, feeling like there was something wrong about having that good old skip in his heartbeat when he saw her.