rosie | griezmann

8

Antoine was, initially, woken up by the sun slipping through his blinds and burning his eyes. But what really got him moving was Rosie, who let out a soft sigh in her sleep.

Antoine's cerulean eyes shot open. He wasn't going to lie to himself and act like he didn't recall what they did, and I, as a narrator, will not tell you that the memories "suddenly came flooding into his mind".  But, he was more than appeased with the fact that Rosie had stayed the night with him, instead of maybe getting up and leaving his abode in shame.

But, Antoine thought, that doesn't mean she's not ashamed.

Maybe she could hear his thoughts, or maybe his fingers, softly rested against her waist, transmitted the thoughts from his body to hers. But she opened her chocolate eyes, turned to face him, and simpered divinely. "I don't regret it, Antoine. It's okay."

She reached her hand up and lay it on his soft cheek before using her eyes to search his azure ones. Antoine smiled a little. "I don't, either." He caught her hand in his and whispered again, almost nervously. "I want to be with you."

Rosie nodded. "I like you too, Antoine. But I can't like you the way you want me to until you learn to love yourself."

Antoine intertwined his fingers with hers and their palms became one as he held them up and before his eyes, blushing. He felt embarrassed, like a fool. He was depressed. "I don't know, Rosie. I'm a mess."

"Well, I'll do anything it takes to clean you up." She sat up, tucked her hair behind her ear, and kissed his lips. Antoine sat up and attempted to grab another kiss off of her lips, but Rosie grinned before playfully dodging it, watching his face grow red. "Antoine, I wouldn't change you for the world."

Antoine scratched his golden hair, feeling his heart flutter like a stupid, enchanted schoolboy. "Really?"

"Really. And it shouldn't be so hard for you to believe."

Antoine's eyes ran down Rosie's smooth, bare skin; the color of coffee and cream, and he found himself enamored once again as she swung her toned legs over the side of the bed and bent down to pick up her black bra.

Quickly, he moved behind her. "Do you have to leave me so soon?"

"I have to go to my office," She murmured. "I need to quit my job before I get fired."

Antoine's lips parted and he moved before her as she slid on her bra. "Is it because of me?"

"No, it's because of me. This is what's right." She responded, tucking her hair behind her ear. Antoine handed her a sweater and she returned the notion with a thankful smile as she pulled it on, then stood and grabbed her jeans.

"What do you mean? You should keep your job...people need you." Antoine spoke, his voice still so dainty and quiet. "People like me."

Rosie just smiled a little. "I'm glad you accidentally came to my office last month, Antoine."

A warm pink mantled Antoine's cheeks. "Me too."

Rosie zipped up her ripped jeans and moved back so that she was on Antoine's lap, her legs wrapping around his waist. "And I'm also happy that you aren't gay. Not that there's anything wrong with that. But if you were, none of this would be happening." She smiled and kissed Antoine. "And I think this is a good thing. Are you okay with it? Do you regret anything?"

"No, of course not." Antoine intertwined his fingers with Rosie's hair and snaked the other around her neck. "But is it wrong, Rosie?"

He was in love with the thought of being in love with her. But he didn't know; there could've been a huge chance that he wasn't her only "special" patient. But still, Rosie was, these days, the only thing that could make his heartbeat speed up; the only thing that could remind him that he was alive and had so much to live for. He lived for his moments with Rosie, his therapist, because she let Antoine be who he truly was.

"If it is wrong, Antoine," Rosie ran a hand through his hair. "Then I don't want to be right."