𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒉 - p. jackson [₃]

𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆.

--

"𝐈 𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃'𝐕𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃."

etienne badeaux blinked at those words, unsure who'd spoken them. maybe he was hearing things. it seemed that the curse of his ancestors had fallen on him too. he was going to crazy in his twenties, and then die.

the sounds of a baby crying took his attention away from the old and bogus 'family curse', and towards the cradle on the other side of the room.

"oh mon chou," etienne cooed, lifting his son from the cradle. "why do you cry, little one? papa's got you."

papa. 

such a simple world, only four letters, and yet, it meant the world to etienne. he paused for a moment, trying to get the brain fog to clear. it was hard sometimes, after his wife died.

wife?

wife, of course. etienne's gaze fell on a picture of the two of them in their wedding attire, posing for the camera. she looked wonderful, and he looked... well, he simply looked in love. he must've been so in love, the day of the wedding felt like a dream to him.

when she became pregnant, it was the greatest news in the world for the two lovebirds. they were going to get someone to spoil and love and cherish. it was a wondrous time... or at least etienne thought it was. he couldn't remember it all. probably due to the brain fog.

it'd begun when his wife died. he didn't remember her going into early labour, or rushing to the hospital, or really, anything else. in fact, all he could remember was seeing young théodore in his cradle for the first time a few nights ago. it felt like minutes ago.

he rocked the little baby in his arms, smiling softly as his piercing cries refused to relent.

"you've got quite the lungs, haven't you?" he tickled the baby's nose. "ah yes, i see it now. you like music, don't you? i love it too, and you're lucky the neighbors are too far to hear your little song right now. but still, i need you to settle down for a bit, just a little while, you see. and perhaps i'll even play you one of my songs."

at the last sentence, young théodore's cries quieted, until he stared up at his father with big green eyes.

"if i knew all it'd take to get you to be quiet was offer to play a song, i'd have done it ages ago," etienne chuckled to himself.

théodore scrunched his face up again, ready to unleash another wave of terror, but etienne quickly silenced him.

"so impatient," he said with a smile. "alright, listen to this. i call it 'tu me manques'."

"théodore!"

"désolé madame allard!" the boy shouted over his shoulder. "i'll send you some more eggs before the end of the day! i promise!"

"like you promised to get your clothes off my clothesline a week ago?" she huffed.

"i already apologized," he groaned, finally stopping and turning. "monsieur bouchard's kids wouldn't let me go until i lost my voice."

"oui, je sais, je sais," she rolled her eyes, but théo saw the glint of fondness the old woman held for him. "just don't forget it this time! and get going, they will not wait for you."

théo grinned, blowing a kiss to madame allard, "merci madame! i won't forget, i promise. i'll give you goldie's eggs."

madame allard shook her head to herself as théodore tripped over his own feet in his haste to turn around and run to the village center. he steadied his guitar, holding it close, before taking off.