What We Had: A Selection Fanfiction

c h a p t e r o n e

Author's Note: If you haven't read the prologue to this story yet, you should check it out, it's really important to to the story! Also this story has some swear words, so like if that triggers you, then leave. I rlly don't swear in this that much tho so u should be good bro. -Frankie (:

It's been two years since the selection, and I feel like my world is still revolving around
Maxon.

I wake up each morning and he's the first thing I think of. That's the problem with
unrequited love, it's everywhere and nowhere, and no matter how much I miss him he's off living his life with Kriss. They look happy enough, on television anyway, but I've seen enough of that world to know not to trust it.

After Maxon proposed to Kriss, I wanted to get as far away from him as possible. I convinced Celeste to move to France with me. Celeste has always had the money and confidence to move halfway across the world and I think that she was actually thrilled with the idea of going to Paris.

I, on the other hand, was worried at first, even though it was my idea. I was worried Maxon would try to find me or that I wouldn't be able to get a job. I was completely wrong about both, especially the former, Maxon hasn't even tried to reach out to me, so I doubt he's going to look for me, especially here. And the latter, I was quickly able to secure a job in the Parisian Royal Palace playing violin or piano, or occasionally singing for events.

I'm not sure what I would've done if Maxon had come for me. I know I want him, I know I love him, but I don't think I could ever truly forgive him for choosing Kriss.

I miss him.

Living with Celeste hasn't been completely terrible though. She can still be an ass at times, but she's kinder now. She actually cares about me, and it's enjoyable enough.

I've been okay, which is better than I thought I'd be without Maxon. He and Kriss still haven't set a wedding date. I actually find it surprising since I always figured that royal weddings were planned and held quickly. I still try not to think of Maxon as much as I can.

The day is new and I do not need Maxon Schreave.

I got myself ready surprisingly quickly and made my way towards the palace.

"Wait, America! You need to eat something," Celeste yells from the kitchen. The fragrance of coffee and toast is heavy in our apartment.

Before I know it, I'm sitting on a wicker chair smothering a chunk of butter onto freshly burnt toast. But let's be honest, burnt toast is the best toast.

"I swear to god, America," Celeste's words are slurred by a hunk of toast, and she takes a pause to chew, "if I didn't offer you food you wouldn't every fucking eat."

That's another thing. I haven't really been eating much. Celeste says I look like a model on crack. I'm not entirely sure if it's a compliment, but I usually laugh anyway. It doesn't really offend me. I don't have an eating disorder, I'm just never hungry. I never think to eat anymore.

The Illean broadcast is playing on the television. It's talking about the uprisings as usual.

As an artist, I've always seen the French palace as much more elaborate than just about anything else in the world. The structure itself was expertly sculpted and designed with columns, and open hallways, and swirling designs. It can still take away my breath when I see it, which is most mornings. I arrive early most of the time to warm up, and I pretty much understand when and where to play what.

I usually play violin for small gatherings in the royal family. Mostly at luncheons, and then some when there are guests. I played the piano forte some nights at dinner or at dinner parties, and I only sing on special occasions like when there's an important guest or ambassador. I'm paid well mostly, and I actually enjoy performing for them.

I arrived at the palace and went to work. I got my daily set list from the head butler and began to warm up on the piano forte.

I was reading the set list when I noticed that the top of the page read,

"For the annual visit of the Illean Royal Family."

Maxon.

Maxon is  coming.

I'm going to have to face him tonight. I can't face him, not now, I'm ready.

I thought I was going to be sick as I read it. Tonight I would be singing in front of him. I cringed at the thought, I had no desire to perform for Kriss and Maxon.

I was panicking, if I left the palace, I would lose my job. I couldn't decide if that would prove to be better option than the alternate.

I needed fresh air. I ran out of the palace
and took a deep inhale.

"Excuse me miss, you're not aloud in this section of the garden,"

a guard strolled over to me and extended a hand.

I gulped back my tears and looked up,
he had dark brown eyes and tan skin. His hair was darker than his eyes, but it was
lighter than black. He couldn't have been too much older than me, but he certainly
wasn't younger.

"Yes, of course, I just needed some fresh air," I replied respectively.

He looked at me in an inquisitive manor before saying,

"I'd be happy to escort back inside,"

I took his hand and followed him back to the palace without a word. The guard politely said goodbye and returned to his post.

I half wished I had asked his name, if only to have a friend in the miserably beautiful place.

I overheard two maids gossiping that Maxon had arrived and that he was even more handsome in person. I snorted as I eavesdropped. I had transformed from heartbroken to bitter it seemed, but it didn't matter and I didn't care. I wasn't worried about seeing Maxon until tonight, the room I practiced in was mostly for just for servants and maids, which made it semi-private.

I decided to just ignore his presence entirely. I had no need to talk to him, I just had to make it through this visit without drawing too much attention to myself. I made my way back to my room, sat down at the piano forte, and played a sad, but complex melody. The song itself made me want to cry, but it felt good to bring out my emotion through the music.

I played and played for hours on end, my melody became more and more complex. It was beautiful and sad, it was lively, yet mournful. It showed a heart, a love, a hurt, and sounded like leaves dancing through the wind. I just sat and played and played alone.