𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭

twenty seven

Kaiden

The rink was mostly empty this early in the morning, just how I preferred it. It let me focus on my own drills without the distraction of other skaters.

But then I saw a tall figure stride into the rink—Francis.

Instantly, I recognized him. The football guy. He had the same dark hair as Delphine and those piercing eyes that could easily draw attention on the field.

There was a confidence about him that was impossible to ignore, and he always seemed to know how to command a room.

I paused, curiosity piqued.

Francis wasn't just another guy to me; I had seen him around campus, known for his athletic prowess and easy confidence.

It was hard not to be aware of him; he had this presence that demanded attention. Watching him approach the edge of the ice, I wondered what he was up to.

"Delphine!" he called out, leaning against the barrier like he owned the place. His voice echoed in the rink.

I glanced over to see Delphine stop mid-practice. Her expression shifted from concentration to irritation, and I couldn't help but smirk. I could sense their sibling dynamic from the way they interacted. She shot him a look that clearly said she wasn't interested in his antics.

"What do you want?" she snapped, her tone dripping with annoyance.

I felt a pang of amusement. They were clearly in the midst of a typical sibling squabble, and it was oddly entertaining to watch. Francis had a smirk on his face, and it only widened as he teased her.

"Pourquoi si sérieuse, ma chère soeur?" he said, his accent smooth and playful.

("Why so serious, my dear sister?")

Delphine rolled her eyes, obviously exasperated. "Je t'assure, je ne veux pas te parler!" she shot back, her arms crossed defiantly.

("I assure you, I don't want to talk to you!")

I leaned against the rink's barrier, watching intently. They were like a pair of boxers dancing around each other, landing punches with words instead of fists.

Delphine's annoyance was palpable, yet there was an undercurrent of affection in the way they interacted, even through her irritation.

"Tu sais que je suis ton frère, non?" he quipped, still grinning.

("You know I'm your brother, right?")

"Oui, et ça fait de toi un poids lourd," she retorted, clearly not impressed.

("Yes, and that makes you a heavyweight.")

I chuckled quietly to myself even though I didn't understand it.

Their banter was sharp and witty, and there was a rhythm to it that suggested they'd been doing this for years. I couldn't help but notice how similar they looked, the high cheekbones, the expressive eyes—there was no denying they were siblings.

"Et si je t'apprenais quelques astuces?" Francis suggested, puffing out his chest as if he were a coach offering advice.

("What if I taught you some tricks?")

"Tu es insupportable," Delphine replied, and I could see the faintest hint of a smile trying to break through her annoyance.

("You're unbearable.")

The playful back-and-forth continued, and I found myself captivated.

It was refreshing to see Delphine in a different light, one that didn't involve the stress of her skating routine. This side of her—lighthearted, playful—was a revelation.

"Je peux voir ça," Francis said, gesturing dramatically as if he were reading her emotions like an open book.

("I can see that.")

"Non, je suis très concentrée," Delphine shot back, trying to maintain her serious demeanor despite the laughter dancing in her eyes.

("No, I'm very focused.")

Their exchange went on, each one firing off a new quip, and I felt a strange sense of nostalgia as I watched them. It reminded me of my own family dynamics, the way siblings could annoy each other and yet still share an unbreakable bond. It was clear they were close, and that was something I respected deeply.

As the conversation shifted and Francis made some exaggerated claims about his athletic abilities, Delphine's eye roll was so exaggerated that I couldn't help but laugh.

She was fierce and unapologetic, a stark contrast to the softness she often showed when she was practicing.

But just as I was getting lost in their banter, I noticed Delphine's expression shift slightly as she prepared to resume her practice. There was a fire in her eyes, a determination that was hard to miss. I admired that about her; she took her skating seriously, pouring her heart and soul into it.

As Francis leaned against the barrier, Delphine glided back to the center of the rink, her focus sharpening.

I could see how much she cared about her sport, and it struck me that their playful banter had grounded her, allowing her to channel that energy into her practice.

I had half a mind to get on the ice myself, but I felt rooted to the spot, watching the sibling interaction unfold. I wondered how much pressure Delphine felt to excel and if this playful banter with her brother was a reprieve from that.

Eventually, Francis made his way away from the rink, clearly satisfied with his teasing.

Delphine resumed her practice, and I felt an odd sense of pride in her—she had handled him effortlessly, and I could see the determination in her movements.

As I started to lace up my skates, I felt a mix of admiration and curiosity about Delphine. I was eager to learn more about her, to understand the layers that made her who she was. I couldn't shake the feeling that there was so much more beneath the surface, waiting to be uncovered.

But for now, I needed to focus on my own routine. As I stepped onto the ice, I glanced back at her, hoping to catch a glimpse of that fierce spirit she possessed. I was ready to carve my own path, but a part of me couldn't help but be intrigued by the path she was on—one filled with challenges, laughter, and sibling bonds that seemed unbreakable.