She wants to escape it all. She runs from it. She gets a chance to leave it all behind. And she does, without thinking twice.
Gabrielle leaves France, her home country, when she finds an offer to babysit in London. She doesn't have a lot of ex...
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Alexander's POV
"Gabrielle. Open up. Please, baby."
I think it's been almost half an hour of me begging Gabrielle to come open this door. It's also been that long of me listening to her crying in her room and I can't do anything about it. Although I'm the reason she's crying.
I get it. I get that I made a mistake. I realised it as soon as I saw the hurt and panic on her face. I thought I missed driving and I thought I wanted to go back there. But, right now, there's no any place I'd rather be than with Gabrielle.
I swear I always manage to fuck it up with her. I knew I was bad for her before and that she was way too good for me, but I have my selfish reasons that prevented me from leaving her alone.
"Little one, please, I'm not going anywhere, open the door."
I should know Gabrielle wouldn't want me to go there again. And if I was in her position, I'd never let her go there, either. Over my dead body.
"Go away, Alexander. I told you everything I had to say," I hear Gabrielle say stubbornly.
"I'm going anywhere," I reply equally stubbornly. "I'm going to stand in front of this door until the morning if I have to."
Honestly, right in this moment, I want nothing more than to wrap my arms around her and tell her it's going to be fine. I hate when she closes off and doesn't let me in. I hate her locking herself in that room, crying, leaving me out there, feeling helpless and like the biggest asshole in the world.
I deserved many awards for that way before, but still.
"Baby, seriously. I already apologised and I'm staying here now. I'm sorry, alright? I really am. Now, open the door."
I should be ashamed of how much begging I've done for her. Truth is, I don't even care. What I care about is for her to open this fucking door already because I'm getting desperate.
"Leave me alone," comes from behind the door again. "I don't want to talk to you right now."
"No," I say, not giving up. "Open up and we'll talk face to face. Come on, Gabby, I've been here for half an hour already. Just open up."
There's a long silence this time and I'm ready to start banging on the door for her to open it up if I have to, but then I hear it, that magical sound of twisting a key in the keyhole.
As soon as I hear her unlocking the door, I push the door open, almost hitting her with it, and I come forward, wrapping her in an enormous hug, pushing her backwards until she hits the bed. "You can't ever do that again," I mumble into her hair, exhaling in relief.
She clutches to my jacket, pushing her head into my chest. "You neither," she tells me quietly, her voice groggy from all the crying.
We sleep in her bed that night, clinging to each other in sleep. And none of us seems to mind it because we both need the closure each of one can give to another.
