From: MaR1989@hotmails.de
Sent: Monday, June 16, 2014, 06:14AM
To: ELO135@yahooh.com
Subject: RE: no subject
Early mornings together are probably the best.
---
MARCO
"It's been quite some time since I have been in France," I tell Eloise, which is not really a lie, I've been in France quite often, but not pretty recently.
"Well, it's been quite some time since I was there too," Eloise laughs. She holds on tightly to the suitcase, glad she was going to go back home to hand in her thesis, that she still have yet to tell me about. She said it was a surprise, and she would tell me when she knew her grade. Eloise wasn't planning on doing her masters, not in Paris at least, she told me. The one she wanted to do, wasn't offered there, and besides that, she had no plans to continue studying right away. She was kind of done with it for a while now, and wanted to experience the real world, rather than being the infinite student, which she wasn't, but she felt like she was. "I've never really liked going onto planes." She took my hand and I smiled. I was still walking with crutches though, but since we were sitting waiting to start boarding, she could take my hand. My physical therapist said that I could live without physical therapy for a week, so that I could join Eloise in her trip back home. I wouldn't stay long, Eloise would stay back in France, and I would return back to Germany without her probably. I wasn't really looking forward to separating from her once again, but I know that we will see each other again very soon. She promised me.
We started boarding 5 minutes later and now that we are sitting on our business class seats, we wait for the plane to take off. I look at Eloise, who looks slightly nervous for some reason. I have been on planes far too often, so it's more like a routine for me.
"If you're already nervous for a 2 hour flight to Paris, how do you plan to survive going on a plane to Brazil for 20 hours or something?" I ask her laughing.
"I don't know," she says and squeezes my hand, "I've never been on business class, actually." Eloise giggles. "What a wonderful life having a rich boyfriend." We both laugh at that remark. "I feel like a gold-digger now."
"Spoiler: you are actually," I say, which was meant as sarcasm of course. She definitely wasn't a gold-digger.
A few hours later we land in Paris. The place I haven't been in a long time. Eloise was surprisingly calm on this trip. From what she told me, she was always stressed out on planes, but she seemed to be doing pretty alright. After getting our luggage and finding a taxi to take us to her place, we can finally breathe a little. Eloise seemed to be glad to be back in her country again. And she seemed to be happy to be able to speak French with someone that actually replied back in decent French. And I tried to just sit there and listen to what the taxi driver and Eloise were talking about, but I couldn't make out a lot of words at all. I had learned a bit from Eloise, also I had gotten myself a dictionary, but that didn't help at all, since I butchered the pronunciation and besides that, languages were never really my thing in the first place.
"It's around a 30 minute drive from here to my apartment," Eloise says in English again. And then started rambling back in French when the taxi driver asked her another question. I didn't mind. I checked my phone and saw I had some connection and texted home.
Around 30 minutes later, the taxi stops in front of an apartment complex building and we get out. I pay for the taxi in cash, being glad they also use euros in this country. Eloise and I get upstairs and she opens the door to her tiny apartment, that was even smaller than I expected in the first place. She had warned me that it was small, but this was even smaller than small. The only things there, are a bed, a wardrobe, a tiny television and a desk. And that was probably everything she needs. There is also quite a tiny bathroom, but that functions just fine. I place my suitcase in the corner and look around.
"Small, isn't it?" Eloise says.
"I've stayed in smaller places, so don't worry," I tell her. I sit down in the bed. "You're sure you won't push me out of this bed at night?"
"I can't promise anything," Eloise laughs and sits down next to me, "So this is where I live."
"It's cozy, for sure," I note, "When do you have to hand in your thesis?"
"I made an appointment tomorrow," Eloise says.
"You have to make an appointment to hand in a thesis?" I say surprised.
"Well apparently you have, I only have to print it at some of those fancy printing shops you know," she says, "I don't know which one though, I'm sure Paris is filled with shops like that."
"We'll find one that will be able to finish it on time," I say to her. She smiles and takes her laptop out of her bag, starting to google to find a suitable printing shop.
2 and a half hours later, we stand in the middle of Paris in front of a shop that looked pretty sketchy, but we had no choice but to step in. The people that work there were very kind and assured Eloise that they would be able to finish it in time and that she would be able to pick it up later today, before closing time. So Eloise and I decided it would be nice to grab a bite to eat, because we hadn't had anything aside from the food that was provided to us in the plane.
"I don't usually come in the center of the city to eat, but there are some great places around here," Eloise says as we start walking.
"The city of Paris is probably not the best place to walk around as a football player in the national team of any country," I mention, "There will always be people of your country around."
"Awh," Eloise pouted, "Are you scared of your fans?"
"Not at all, I just wish to be alone with you," I say.
"Well, in Paris, you're never alone," Eloise says and she takes my hands and we walk through the narrow streets of the city, passing some of the most famous landmarks and stopping there for a minute to talk about it. But then continuing to step forward, because Eloise has a great place in mind to eat at. She takes me to the outskirts of the city and I must admit that I'm getting slightly hungry and I wonder why we didn't take the subway.
"This was definitely worth the walk," I say to Eloise when I stuff my mouth with another piece of croissant that we just got from the petite bakery.
"Of course it was," Eloise grins, "On the way back, we'll take the subway, for obvious reasons, of course." She's eating some sweet things she said were called macarons. They were brightly colored cookies, it seemed. I didn't want to try as they seemed slightly too chemical to me, but I might someday try it out.
Moments later, Eloise got a call that they had finished printing her thesis and she would be able to pick it up already. We were both glad to hear that, and once we finished eating, we took the subways to the outskirts of Paris again. I must admit, that I have never been on such a busy subway before in my life. I looked at Eloise, wiggling and struggling around in subway, I held her near me, in case we had to suddenly stop and she would fall face down.
With the thesis in her hands, we walked back to her apartment, to get some rest. Walking had been quite hard on me today, and my leg hurt me a lot. But moving seemed to be going better than expected. Of course, that didn't mean I would be playing football again any time soon, definitely not in Brazil. Once we reached the apartment, I could get some rest and perhaps sleep a little too. Eloise said she'd do some groceries and decide what was for dinner, while I could get some sleep. I offered to come with her to the shops, but she said would be better for me to let my leg rest, in case we'd wanted to go out tonight. Eloise liked to drink wine with her dinner. I didn't drink at all, especially not after Summer died and I ended up drinking too much, in combination with the medication I received, it could have ended up fatally. But perhaps that was what I wanted back then.
YOU ARE READING
end up here ≫ marco reus
Fanfic❝How did we end up here? Just kiss me, Eloise, I have been waiting for this since the first email.❞ --- Marco Reus accidentally ends up writing an email to the French Eloise. Marco, who is still not over the death of his ex-girlfriend, finds it hard...