Måneskin oneshots REQUEST OPEN

Day 7- Porch Swing (V. DA.)

In honor of one year since the official release of The Loneliest.

Words count : 2,3 k

She was always swinging her time away. Same hour, same porch, her eyes empty, staring into the wind.
Vic was used to seeing her. She was her neighbor. She was used to a cheerful girl, bringing home some friends over. She was used on seeing her dance alone in her kitchen, hear her laugh from across the street.
But now it was no longer the same. She was swinging her life away because life left her eyes. Her eyes looked like she had shed all the tears she had left. And never Vic could've known the state of a perfect stranger would have affected her that way.

You were a librarian, a girl who loved to burry all her problems in her books. Never looking around at the world unfolding in front of her.

You always knew you wanted to become an author, but your parents never supported you. So you stopped trying, writing would slowly come in second plan. You gave up on being a writer. You gave up on your dream.
That is until the day you got accepted into a university of literature. Your dream got back on track. You were happier than ever.
But life took that away too. Your father always wanted to study law in Italy, so he managed to get you a place in Rome. So after your eighteen birthday, you had to say goodbye to the people you loved the most. And for what ? To meet your parents' expectations.

After a year, you started to distance yourself with your family and it crushed you. During those years, you studied, hard. To forget that you were missing out on your life, your dream. But that part of you was missing, and left a cunning whole into your chest : writing. So unintentionally, you tried to look for it in your daily life; trying to compose, write, even sing. That was until he arrived.

You met him on the first day of winter break in first year of college. There was a piano in the train station, and he was playing beautifully, people stopping around him. He was so focused, so perfect. It was intriguing. His hair were perfectly falling in front of his features and he seemed like he was floating with every note.

After he finished he looked up and thanked the people that were applauding. His eyes came in contact with yours and time seemed to stop. He was staring blankly back at you, a smirk slowly made his way onto his features and he winked. You flushed red, realising you were staring. You swiftly turned around and walked away towards your train. You still felt his blue eyes on your back.

You tried to forget that little encounter for the next few minutes. But life really never gave you a break. You were looking out of the window in the unmoving train as people were looking for their places. Your felt the presence of your neighbor taking place with a sigh, you didn't bother to look, too tired anyway. But then the person spoke. "Je m'appelle Antoine." You turned and your heart seemed to miss at least three beats. That boy from earlier. You snapped out of it, not wanting to embarrass yourself and shook his hand.

Antoine. He was a French student in the same year as you. He was a very talented pianist, he played for over ten years at the conservatory of his city. He saw you a few times in the corridor, but you didn't share any common friends, so you never actually properly met.
Now that you think about it, maybe you weren't supposed to ever meet him after all. But it did happen, you met him, and it would forever change your existence.

You fell in love. Deeply and quickly. Like in those teen movies. The kind where everything is going great. You were his saviour in law studies and he was your poetic anchor. You would sometimes compose songs where he could play and you could write and sing the lyrics. He helped you learn playing piano, he gave you back the feeling you felt when you were with reading. That feeling of freedom, he was your escape. You presented each other to your parents, and in less than a year, you were engaged. You planned for him to move in Italy, you planned your future with him. You planned to elope, to leave your dreams of being artists.