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𝑯𝒆 𝒔𝒎𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒘𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒅𝒆𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏.
Antoine's Perspective
"Antoine, I'm going to sponge your face."
My eyebrows furrow. "What the heck does that mean?"
"Your face is burning up, as I'm sure you know. I've got a bowl of water and a sponge. I'm just gonna dab it on your face. I remember when I was little, when I would get sick, my mum always did that for me, and it felt really good when I had a high fever. It helps to bring the heat down, too. It won't be soaking wet- just damp. Okay?"
I feel embarrassment bury itself into me. "Couldn't I do it myself?"
"No!" she says quickly. "Your... You need to rest. You just relax. Get comfortable. Are you comfortable?"
I shift a bit, shrugging. "Yeah, but you don't have to do this..."
"Antoine, stop making me embarrassed to do this and just shut up and let me!" she snaps, which makes me jump and nod, and shut up as she ordered.
I shut my eyes, too. And I feel the cool water on my face under the gently dabs of her sponge, on my forehead, first. It feels so nice and cool against my burning hot skin. It's been bothering me so much, this fever, and freaking me out, and, honestly, scaring me. I've just kept it to myself as to not worry Reese Mallory.
But this? It feels so good.
The gentle touch of her hand resting on my chest is so familiar, and there's so much care in her touch as she dips the sponge in more water and cools my cheeks and forehead with it.
More care than I've ever received.
And, God damn it, here come tears.
God, no, I can't cry here.
Why am I crying?
I look away, putting my hand over my eyes, praying to whatever god that's out there that I won't cry. Well, once again, he doesn't listen. I feel that bubbly pit fill up by my Adam's apple, and I try to swallow it down, but it goes no where. Tears fill in my eyes, and start to try to trickle down, if it weren't for my fingers that stop them.
I hear Reese Mallory say, alarmed, "Antoine? Are you okay?"
I don't respond, because then she would hear the tears in my voice. I just shake my head, continuing to look away from her. I can't let her see me cry again. Not again. I hate it when I cry, but I hate it even more when people see me cry. I feel my breathing get quicker in the worry that she is going to see me cry, and I'm going to have to explain to her why I'm crying, which is the worst part.
"Antoine?" she repeats, and I cough at the concerned way she says my name. "Antoine, are you hurt? Antoine, I can see you're crying? Are you experiencing any pain? Antoine, tell me what's wrong!" She's got one hand on my shoulder, and the other is taking my hand that isn't covering my eyes.
Reese Mallory Abbott, stop it right now. She's making me cry. The way she holds my hand, rubbing it gently, saying as softly as she can, "Tell me what's wrong, Antoine. I'm here to help you." Why should she help me ? After all I've done? I don't deserve this... She's giving me so much care, and I've never experienced this before, and it's just all so overwhelming. I'm crying because I don't deserve this... Because she's being so kind, and no one else has ever been so kind to me like this...
No one else has ever cared.
Reese Mallory cares.
Suddenly, she takes my chin in her hand, forcing my face to face hers. I sigh, taking my hand away from my eyes, looking up at her. There's no point in hiding tears if she already knows they're there.
Reese's Perspective
My breath catches in my throat when I see, feel those eyes. They look like the deepest blue ocean, filling up with tears like that, and there's so much in them. So much pain. So much joy. So much strength. So much loneliness. So much weakness. So much thankfulness.
It's quite a beautiful moment to see him looking up at me like that, eyebrows furrowed, eyes looking for something lost. It's a moment that I never want to loose. A moment that I can never forget, for as long as I'm living.
Years from now, I never want to forget the look in his beautiful eyes.
Antoine's Perspective
She strokes my cheek, which, cursed me, it makes me cry harder. She asks me, "Antoine, what's wrong?" It's calm down, not urgent. Like she'll wait a million years in patience just to hear my voice. What a beautiful feeling. Suddenly, I really like Reese Mallory. I have so much respect for me, and guilt crushes me. Absolutely breaks me apart for what I've done to her for years. She's such a beautiful, lovely, valued person. Why did I do that?
Because you're an awful person, Antoine. That's why.
That doesn't make me cry harder though. What does is that she's such a wonderful person, and I'm just an awful one, yet she serves me. She's so...
Wonderful.
Finally I blurt, listening to my hoarse crying voice crack, "Reese Mallory, you're so kind to me. My mama never took care of me when I was sick, and I've never felt this, and you're being so kind, and just feeling your touch on my skin... Like, you don't care that you could get sick, too. That's so unselfish, and I don't deserve it, and the care in your touch... It feels so nice, and I've never felt that before, and it's so nice, that... I don't know... My stupid emotions... They... They just took over me..."
Her warm brown eyes look into me, and suddenly, she leans down, wrapping her arms around me in the most true, meaningful hug I've ever experienced, and I try so hard to stop crying, but it's like I can't. With every kind, wonderful action she does, I just cry more. Harder.
She whispers in my ear, "Antoine Griezmann, you are a very lonely boy. You're hurt, and injured, and you don't know what to do. You've had it way too hard. You don't deserve what you've gone through, whatever that has been. You're so handsome, so strong, and you use those blessings to hide the mess that you are. You need love, and you need care, and you need to be told that you don't have to be f***ing strong all the time. You need to know that it's okay to cry about it. You need someone you can be safe talking to. You need help out of the pit that you're in that you feel is bottomless, and the cycle you're in that seems endless. You're so beautiful, so perfect, but someone took perfect you and hurt you so bad, and you don't f***ing deserve that. You did awful things because it was the only way to get through what someone was putting you through, because you had no one who offered you help and love through it, so you wouldn't have to hurt others. You need someone. You deserve someone. You deserve the world, but instead have been given trash, by someone who hurt you. You did wrong, but there's a reason you did. You need help that no one is giving you. I hurt you, too, because I didn't understand that you didn't need revenge, but rather, help, to stop what you were doing. You put yourself so high up by pushing others down, yes. I've already told you that. But now I know why you did that. It's because other people, and yourself, were trying to pull you down so low, to a place you don't deserve. Antoine, you need love. You need someone to tell you that you're worth more that every single thing they've said, everything you've done, every choice you've made. You're more than all those past mistakes, Antoine. You're absolutely amazing, and you need to be loved."
By now, I'm sobbing into her shoulder, my whole boy shaking, feeling the weight of all that on my shoulders being poked. She's, once again, telling me the complete truth, but I cry, because she's f***ing right. But I'm not sad. I'm not happy, either.
Then she finishes with the last little whisper of, "But, oh, Antoine Griezmann, can I be all that stuff you need?"
I sob, clutching onto the shirt on her back, and I desperately want to nod and tell her yes.
