[ acht ]
Given the fact that he hadn't tripped over his own feet on his way towards her, and the fact that he had actually found the words to introduce himself properly, Bastian Schweinsteiger thought he had actually been successful in meeting Primrose for the first time. He smiled at her, but it was a nervous smile, and he wiped his sweaty palm off on his jeans. He then thought that he should probably offer his hand to her, for a handshake, even if it was too formal of a thing to do.
He stuck his hand out, the one holding the coffee, and she looked at it for a moment with confusion etched upon her face. She didn't know what to do, how to respond, because she didn't know what he was trying to do.
"Oh, sorry." He told her, pulling his occupied hand back and offering the other. "I'm Bastian Schweinsteiger." He repeated in a thick German accent. He didn't know if she spoke German, but since she was American he figured it would be best for him to speak to her in a language she might understand best.
"I know." She smiled up at him from her seat. Primrose wanted to stand up and greet him, but she was too tired to do so and hoped he would understand.
Her mother and Elise had been adamant about accompanying her to the coffee shop where she would be meeting the famous footballer, but Primrose wanted to do it on her own. She didn't want Bastian to feel more pity for her than he probably already did. Mrs. Bennett and Elise had finally agreed they would let her go alone on the condition that they would drop her off at the coffee shop and pick her up at the door when her meeting was done. Primrose reluctantly agreed.
Bastian sat on the empty seat across from her, placing his cup of coffee on the table in front of him. "I'm glad you're not a sixty nine year old woman or something like that." He muttered in relief, more to himself than to her. But she had managed to catch what he said and let a giggle escape her lips.
She was dressed in a Bayern jersey with his name and number adorning it, a pair of jeans, and a scarf covering her head. Her skin had a pallid tone to it and there were dark circles under her eyes. She looked very sick to him, but even through the pain and weakness she felt from her weakness, she still managed to put on a smile for him. She admired him, and meeting Bastian was her dying wish.
"I probably look like I'm sixty nine." She joked, gesturing to the dark circles under her eyes which seemed to age her considerably.
Bastian quickly gave a shake of his head, trying to reassure her. "You look very young. I wouldn't think you past twenty five." Even though he was still nervous, and he was trying to treat her as though she were a normal person, he was glad that they had at least hit it off and he wasn't making a complete fool of himself in front of her. He didn't want to give her the wrong impression, especially when she seemed to think so highly of him.
There was a short pause in the conversation when Primrose finally broke it after a few moments. "Thank you so much for doing this." She began after sucking in a breath to steel herself. "I know you're probably very busy with your football career and might not have time for whims of a sick girl. I really appreciate that you took the time to do this."
Again, Bastian gave a shake of his head. "No, its my pleasure to do this. I was just telling my mates the other day how honored I was that you would want to meet me as your dying wish." His grey-blue eyes spotted her hands rested upon the surface of the table and he reached for them. It felt natural to him, he felt like he had known Primrose for a long time. Only in the process, he ended up tipping over his cup of coffee, which spilled in her direction until the liquid fell off the table and onto her lap.
Primrose pushed herself away from the table, to avoid more of it falling on her clothes, also pulling her hands off the table that was now covered in dark coffee. Bastian shot up from his seat, offering a stream of apologies that eventually became curse words in German at his own clumsiness. His hand shot out to grab some napkins from the dispenser and he proceeded to make a sloppy attempt at cleaning his mess. Primrose grabbed a few napkins of her own and used them to dry the warm liquid that had stained her jeans and the bottom of her Bayern jersey.
"I'm sorry," He offered in English for what felt like the millionth time. "I'm a bit nervous."
"Its fine." She smiled up at him kindly. "These things happen."
"They've been happening to me all week." He sighed as he remembered the countless times he had wrongly dressed himself for practice, or lost the keys to his apartment, or ran into a door. All because his mind was on his meeting with Primrose Bennett and how he could make her time with him the best time of her life. And here he was ruining it already.
"Bastian," She began, her hand reaching for his frantic ones that rubbed the surface of the table to get it clean. He stopped when he felt her hand on his. "Everything's fine, so you can just sit here with me and relax."
He cleared his throat awkwardly, realizing how much of a scene he was causing. The other people in the coffee place were now staring at the two of them. Sitting back down in his chair, he said, "Okay, but I'll get you a new jersey since I stained the one you have now."
"I like the sound of that, Mr. Schweinsteiger." She said to him with a small smile playing on her tired lips.
And he liked the sound of that; her voice saying his name.
-
lets call upon a chorus of angels singing hallelujah. *sings* and i'll since hallelujah, and you'll sing hallelujah, and we'll all sing hallelujah when we arrive at home.
i know i haven't updated this in months. sorry. but here is an update, for those of you who still read this. forgive me, for i have been a terrible co-author. but i feel rather inspired now so we'll probably be on here a bit more.
thank you for all your support. it means loads!
-clary xx
