Third Time's a Harm

4

GABRIEL's POV

I saw her standing there a few moments before approaching. She would've been crazy if she didn't want an umbrella even now. And by the looks of it, she also had some paintings with her that's even less likely possible she wished to get all the paint off of.

I stood behind her with the umbrella, and her shoulders lowered and then tensed back up, sensing me, probably.

She looked back and up at me. Possibly because of the pressure she indirectly put on me earlier, but her blue eyes stroke to me for the first time.

'Do you want this now?'

I smiled. Maybe that way I'd get something positive out of her rather than being half a crybaby and basically beg her to be nice to me in some sort of way.

She answered nothing, but I just assumed it was beyond her pride to take my lame umbrella. I helped her get up from the wooden box she was sitting on and took her hand in mine, placing the umbrella there.
But before I could go a step further and place her fingers around the handle, she jerked off my hand rather violently off of her.

'What do you think you're doing here? Did you stalk me or something?'

Pride. Pride and again pride. But I knew it was a simple, weak barrier that I had to break, and with the right words and actions at the right time I eventually could do it. I chuckled.

'What now, am I not allowed to walk the streets of Paris? I live here too, you know.'

A moment passed. I know she was thinking what to reply with and doze her ego.

'I didn't say that. I just never see you here anyways, so I thought...'
'You thought I came for you?'

A battle of minds and maybe hearts, more or less. Psychology was one of my less shown forte points, and now was definitely a good time to put it to use.

'No. Calm down.'

Fine. Maybe I skipped the line a little there. But she still took the umbrella.

'Do you want me to help you with those?'
'You could.'

Gabriel - 1, Nathalie - God knows how many. I believe that to be the first time she used her head before her so-called dignity in answering a question of mine. 

We walked for something that felt around twenty minutes - through the rain. Sharing the same umbrella.

I must admit that I would've never thought being under an umbrella with someone I barely knew could give me so much mixed thoughts. The closeness was surely something that couldn't go unnoticed for anyone and anytime - especially a guy and girl - but perhaps I was thinking too much into it.

"You don't even know who she is, Gabriel." That's what my inner voice said. But two minutes later there was an interruption from the other side of my head saying something along the lines of "The finest of strangers end up as the best of friends and lovers."

Sometimes I really admit to myself I read too many books - romance ones even - I have my moments when I surely act crazy like a teenage girl.

'This is me.'

Clearly I didn't expect her to let me help her with her stuff up to her apartment of wherever she was living, but hearing that in the middle of a suburban park wasn't quite what I felt like would happen either. And my mouth let it be obvious quickly.

'What?'
'I said; "this is me". That means that's where I thank you and then you piss off.'

That's all the thanks I could get anyways, I guess.

'Heh... fine then.'

I left the canvases on the bench we stopped in front of and held out my hand. She won't realise immediately but when she does it'll be one more point for me.

She wanted to say "what". I saw her lips moving but only for a fraction of a second - then she figured out.

'Here you go.'
'Are you sure-'
'Damn yes I am sure, Agreste. Now go.'

"Agreste". It sounds dumb, as if I didn't know my own name. But the way she said it sparked something - a hateful bliss.

'Fine, Sancœur. See you tomorrow.'

She gritted her teeth with her mouth closed. I knew I'd piss her off, but at the end of the day, if that's what our relationship would consist of, I'd gladly do it everyday.

*

'Mom, Dad, I'm home!'
'Welcome, boy.'

Dad and Mom... I don't even know if I should explain their relationship or not. They seemed like a very lovely couple at first, and, of course, that's what they really were, too, but I couldn't really figure out how.
They got along extremely well and I was thankful for that, knowing half of the kids' in my class parents were either divorced or should've been, but they were so damn different I don't even know how they got along in the first place, let alone marry each other.

He was a more cheerful kind of guy with a sort of a cheeky side, but had a very well defined soft-spot for Mom. Her, on the other hand... sure, she was a great mother and I'd never want anything else from her, but she just wasn't that affectionate. If you'd ask me, I have never heard her tell my Dad he loves him or something, and even to me the only kind of love she showed was amazing food and books.

I was so hungry I had almost forgotten to put my umbrella to dry before going to eat. And after finishing what I had in my plate and a short conversation with Dad about today's events and how he knew it wasn't my fault, I went on into my room.

I wanted to change into comfortable clothes and took off my jeans and t-shirt, when I noticed something fall off to the ground.

Her sketch. I think I picked it up out of curiosity. It didn't reach the trash bin and while she was making it I kind of threw a glimpse now and then.

It was half a portrait of a woman - no face features, no hair, but I could tell from the angles of the structure - what caught my attention was exactly the concept - why half?