Through You

Chapter 1 - The Last Week of Freedom

The waves gently rolled onto the beach, and Jeanne felt their monotonous melody envelop her, like a reassuring echo of eternity. The sun was setting on the horizon, painting the sky with shades of pink, violet, and gold, a scene so perfect it seemed unreal. Yet, a slight tension hung in the air, a sense that this suspended moment would not last. The laughter of her friends echoed around her, but for the first time, Jeanne couldn’t help but feel a certain distance, a latent fear.

She closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the warmth of the sun on her skin, but also to better listen to the world around her. Thomas and Mattheo were bickering again, as always. It was their way of showing affection, maintaining the fragile balance of their friendship. But today, something felt different to Jeanne. Each burst of laughter seemed a bit more forced, each jab a bit heavier.

"You're such an idiot, Thomas!" exclaimed Mattheo, throwing sand at him, his words accompanied by a wide, teasing smile. Jeanne opened one eye, just in time to see Thomas burst into laughter, shaking his head as if he didn’t care.

Lynne, sitting nearby, watched the scene with a smirk, her eyes hidden behind the pages of her book. But Jeanne, who knew her better than anyone, could see in her eyes a certain melancholy, an inner reflection she was trying to mask behind that nonchalant façade. Lynne, so reserved and mysterious at times, always carried her doubts in silence. She was the one who dreamed of elsewhere, of faraway travels, but today, her gaze seemed darker, as if she too felt the fear that everything could change.

Jeanne took a deep breath, deciding to break the charged atmosphere. "Alright, guys, cut it out with the nonsense." Her voice, soft but firm, had the desired effect. Mattheo and Thomas stopped instantly, exchanging knowing glances before flopping heavily onto the sand. This sudden moment of calm gave way to the sound of the waves, a heavy silence, almost tangible.

She observed her friends, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over her, mixed with a hint of sadness she couldn’t quite define. They were all there, together, yet there was this sensation, an invisible distance growing between them. Their lives were about to change, and she knew it. The new school year was approaching, bringing with it new responsibilities, different paths that could pull them apart.

"Are you already worrying about school starting?" Lynne asked without lifting her eyes from her book, her calm voice gently breaking the silence.

Jeanne hesitated, looking up at the sky to avoid her friend’s inquisitive gaze. "It’s not really about school... it's more that... I don’t know, I just feel like this year will be different." She struggled to put into words the unease she felt, the sense that the balance of their group might be disrupted at any moment.

Thomas, always the one to divert serious topics, stretched lazily before chiming in lightly, "Different how?" He smiled, but his smile seemed a little less wide than usual, as if he too sensed this underlying tension.

Jeanne looked at him, then turned away. She knew Thomas didn’t like to confront these kinds of discussions. He lived in the present, refusing to consider that their friendship could ever crack. "It's just a feeling, that's all."

Mattheo, always the pragmatic one, sat up slightly. "You're overthinking it, Jeanne. We’re still together, we always have been, and we always will be." His voice was firm, almost resigned, as if he was trying to convince himself as much as reassure her.

Lynne said nothing. She simply closed her book, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the cover. More than anyone, she understood Jeanne's uncertainty. Behind her calm mask, Lynne was the most sensitive to the changes to come. She knew that their dreams, their aspirations, would inevitably lead them down different paths, and that thought scared her.

"Maybe you're right," Jeanne whispered, though the knot in her stomach refused to disappear. She tried to let herself enjoy the moment, to bask in the sunset and the laughter of her friends. But the certainty that a change was coming lingered over her like a threatening cloud in an otherwise serene sky.

Soon, their conversations resumed, light, focused on the future. Thomas joked about becoming a famous chef, even though everyone knew he never really took his ambitions seriously. Mattheo kept his usual air of mystery, hinting that he was hoping for something big but never revealing what it was. Lynne spoke of her dreams of exploration, her desire to leave this town and discover the world. Her eyes briefly lit up when she talked about distant lands, but Jeanne could see the fear behind that sparkle, the fear of never having the courage to actually leave.

As for Jeanne, she remained quiet. What did she really want? She didn’t know. Maybe all she needed was this exact moment, surrounded by her friends, not worrying about tomorrow. But she knew, deep down, that these moments wouldn’t last forever.

The night slowly fell, wrapping the beach in a soothing coolness. The group lay down on the sand, watching the stars as they had done so many times before. The silence between them wasn’t heavy, but filled with a certain gravity, as if each of them understood, without needing to say it, that something was about to change.

"Do you think we’ll always be like this?" Lynne asked softly, breaking the tranquility. Her question was simple, but it carried a depth that everyone immediately felt.

Thomas stayed silent, his gaze fixed on the starry sky, as if searching for answers among the constellations. Mattheo was the first to respond, his voice full of the quiet confidence that defined him. "Yeah, I think so. Maybe we won’t always be here, on this beach, but we’ll always be together. One way or another."

Jeanne turned her head to look at her friends, feeling a familiar warmth spread through her heart. Maybe Mattheo was right. Maybe even if their lives changed, even if the future was uncertain, they would always find each other again. But a small voice inside her continued to whisper that nothing would remain exactly as it had been.