What We Had: A Selection Fanfiction

c h a p t e r f i v e

Author's Note: so this was originally two chapters but they were both pretty short so I thought I turn it into one big chapter, also, this chapter change POV a few times, it's marked when it does, but just be ready, with love, Frankie (:

America's Point of View

Maxon occupied every thought I had. Should I go, how do I know if he really loves me? If he does love me so much, then why did he choose Kriss over me? The thoughts flooded my head and made me feel sick to my stomach. I didn't want to leave France, I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of having so much control over my emotions. I was so confused, I loved him, I wanted to be with him, but I can't just give him another chance, I need more time. I can't believe I kissed him yesterday. Why did I kiss him? Or did he kiss me? My head is spinning. I can't even think.

I walked up the steps of our flat.

"America, is that you," Celeste called.
"Yeah," I said as I stomped through the doorway.
"Did you get off work early? It's only three,"
"Well, no, I wasn't actually working today," I answered shyly.
"What do you mean you weren't working today, you went to the palace this morning didn't you?" She persisted.
"I need to talk."
"Okay," was all she said.
I recounted to her my not entirely epic tale of seeing Maxon again after all this time, I told her how we had met this morning, and how he said he still loved me. I told her how I had told him that he'd have to breakup with Kriss immediately if there was any chance of us being together, and how he had said he needed more time. She seemed surprised, which made me anxious.
"Are you going to see him again?" She asked me.
"No. Yes. Maybe, I honestly don't know."
"Well you better figure it out, Mer, Maxon and Kriss can't be staying France much longer. I'd give you a  week at best."
The thought of having such a small time frame to see him again made me even more anxious.
"I'll figure it out I guess," I trailed off, looking out the window at the stunning Parisian streets. We didn't have a view of the Eiffel Tower or anything historic, but our view was one of my favorites, overlooking streets and people and lights.
I think Celeste realized I didn't really want to talk anymore, so she made her way back to her own room, even though it was only midday.

I allowed myself to drift into a short, light sleep and woke up only a couple hours later.
"America, we don't have to go drinking or anything, but let's go out, get some dinner, have some actual fun." Celeste was saying as I awoke.
"I have fun." I fired back.
"Work doesn't count as fun, come on," she told me.
"Okay."
There was actually nothing to defend. Celeste was right, I didn't have fun. Ever, and Celeste was grinning the moment I said okay. She pulled me from bed and brought me to her room, where's she dressed me in a cute black dress that fell right at my knees. She curled my hair, applied makeup, and added one of her necklaces to match. She was already dressed and ready to go, so we left the flat and began walking down the streets of Paris.

Maxon's Point of View

Two years ago, I made the most monumental mistake of my mortal life. I don't love Kriss, and the more I learn about her the more I realize that. She was lovely, she was beautiful, and kind, and intelligent, but she wasn't right, she wasn't real, she wasn't America. And for that reason alone, I couldn't bring myself to truly love her. I looked at America after all this time and saw her grace, her body, her face, her soul, I couldn't breath. I couldn't think. I was paralyzed, every part of me. My bones shivered at the mere thought of her. My beautiful love, and god I hated her for it. I hated her for making me love her, for breaking my heart, but in all truth, in all my hate and anger, the love was stronger, I don't care if she breaks my heart so as long as she's with me. America could break my heart a thousand times if she liked, it was only ever her to break. (-Kierra Cass, The One).

I wanted her back. I needed her. Thoughts clouded and formed and cracked throughout my mind. I couldn't take it, I had to see her. Kriss was sitting across from me, watching the Report huddled inside a cream armchair in our palace suite.
"We're going out tonight," she said, making me snap back to reality.
"Where?"
"Just you and me. At some fancy restaurant Fleur told me about, it's supposedly very romantic," she purred.
The last thing I could handle was a romantic dinner with Kriss. I didn't even want to talk to her, let alone feel obliged to kiss her. The thought made me sick. I had forgotten how close she and Fleur had gotten while we visited. Fleur seemed sweet, but she was so fragile, so delicate, I felt uncomfortable around her.
"Sounds wonderful my dear," I lied.
She smiled at me and stalked off into our closet to find an suitable dress. I had no interest in spending any real time getting ready, I couldn't care less about my appearance right now. I just wanted to make it through the night, which was a challenge in its own its right. And so I just sat there idly and watched as people crowded and pushed there way through streets and parks.

America's Point of View

Celeste and I spent about an hour just walking and talking and laughing. The perfect distraction, I thought. We took pictures together in front of all the touristy landmarks and laughed our way through the streets. Celeste was right, I was having fun, real, genuine fun.
"What now?" I asked as we ended our brief, epic tour.
"Now," she took a pause as she spoke, "we eat, I mean we've lived in Paris for two years, Mer, and we've been to what, like two high class restaurants?"
I giggled, and let her have the last word by finally saying, "okay, I am pretty hungry."
She grabbed my hand and said, "I know just the place!"
I laughed as we ran through crowds, it made me feel young, or maybe like I felt actually my age and like I hadn't already had my heart and soul crushed. It was beautiful, youth, it was pure and innocent, and happy, youth was happy, it sounded like nostalgia and tasted like sugar. I let it consume me without a thought. And so I ran through Paris and lived life with a drive of youth, of nostalgia and sugar, and happiness.

Maxon's Point of View

I wasn't looking forward to this dinner with Kriss, but this restaurant truly looked unreal. It was beautiful, so beautiful, and it was decorated with promising smells of rising bread and spices. I looked around and saw happy people enjoying delicacies and meals of the highest quality. We were seated at our table, I noted the room, the place setting, the cream colored tablecloth that contrasted the dark cloth napkins and the fresh bouquet of light yellow roses at our table. America hates roses, I remembered, she thinks they're cliche. Everything reminded me of her, because it was her. This sky that twisted to create of blur of colors, that moment right after sunset when the sky was still alive, but with a darker cast of hues. It was her. It was wild and beautiful, and free, it was alive with starlight and wildflowers, it danced along to the music and the wind and the birdsong. I think that's how you know you're in love, when you look to the sky and think of a person, when you look and see life's most beautiful things. America was, above all, life's most beautiful thing.

"It's a beautiful night isn't it," she said, watching me watch the sky. It would be, if you weren't here, I thought.
"It is, but only because you're here," I lied again.
I looked down at my menu, desperate to break my eye contact with her. Everything looked delicious, from the steaks, to the scallops, and everything smelled so wonderful, I couldn't decide.
"The shrimp look good," Kriss blurted.
I hate shrimp.
"Yes, but the scallops look better," I replied in a joking tone. She let out a small, soft giggle, and returned to the menu.
"Ugh, I'm starving," I overheard from across the room. That voice. It sounded to familiar. I searched the room for anyone familiar, my eyes scanned the room before landing on Celeste. Celeste?
"Is that Celeste?" I accidentally wondered aloud. Kriss' eyes grew brighter as I mentioned her name.
"Celeste? Where?" She replied, now determined to find her. Not sure of what else to say, I said the truth,
"Over there, by the chandelier," I told her. I didn't think it was possible, but Kriss' eyes grew even more. She looked at Celeste and smiled.
"We should go and say hi. I mean, we haven't seen her in two years now,"
I nodded, not in the mood to object and end up going over there anyway. Celeste was sitting alone, and so I assume the conversation would be short.
We rose from our seats and made our way across the restaurant to Celeste's table.

Author's Note:  okay so I'm in a petty mood which means Maxon's salty... where's America what will happen next?! Read more to find out. Lol wat am I doing ok love ya tots, Frankie (: