Foto bij 428 - Emma

All good things must come to an end, we both knew that the moment I decided to stay in France. That end seemed so far away, yet today is the day I fly back to Scotland. I've overstayed my welcome, as Jacques' prying eyes have only focussed on our presence more, and work can't miss me much longer.
So here I am, crying at the airport.
"Hey, silly," Lucien smiles, pressing a kiss to the top of my head as I'm wrapped in his arms. "It's just going to be a few weeks, remember? I'll be by your side before you know it."
"I know," I breathe in between soft sobs, taking in his familiar perfume. "I'm just going to miss you."
That's not the only reason I'm crying, though it could all easily be blamed on it. Part of me is afraid. That as soon as we say goodbye and go back to living our own lives, seperated from each other, we'll realise that we made a mistake. That rekindling this romance wasn't much more than that - romance, orchestrated by our friends and fueled by memories.
He chuckles, placing his hands around my face to let his thumbs wipe away my tears. "And I'm going to miss you, so much. But we're going to be fine."
Another sob and a smile from Lucien as he kisses my temple. "Je t'aime."
"I love you, too," I try and steady my breath, though not succesfully.
One more kiss before we let go of each other, my hands shaking. Then, a goodbye I'm not even close to ready for, and my trip home begins.
      Coming home alone feels strange. Frank is there to talk to, but he doesn't talk back and even my small, almost shoebox-like appartment feels too big without Lucien in it.
This should get easier, one way or another, because if this is what long distance will do to me I won't know if I can do it. It's not quite as bad as heartbreak, but it does feel like a part of me is missing. I lay on my couch, just like I've done so many lonely nights before. I've texted Lucien to let him know I've come home safely, to which he almost immediately replied with a sweet, happy message. We've promised each other not to dwell on how much we miss each other, because that won't make this any easier.
I know I shouldn't be sad, because we're back together again, and this is just a temporary feeling. Within no time I'll have him back in my arms again, and we'll spend some time here, in Scotland.
Maybe we'll even look for a place for the two of us, if that wasn't a crazy thing of me to come up with. It seems like it makes a lot of sense. We'd have a place here, where Lucien can come back to. A place that isn't just mine, or just his, but ours. I'd take care of it when he's in France, and when he'd be here, we could just be together.
The doorbell interrupts my optimistic daydreams about a shared flat, with enough space for a pantry and his and hers sinks, plus a bath tub and seperate shower.
I'm not expecting any visitors, which is why I look through the little peep hole in the door to make sure it isn't a salesman or an ex-boyfriend.
"Brie?" I swing the door open, immediately greeted by a widely smiling Gabriel, holding a bottle of wine and a white bag that smells like Chinese takeout. "What are you doing here?"
"Lucien told me," he barges in, placing his stuff on the table and falling down to his knees to pet Frank, who's already circling around his legs. "That you were having a hard time at the airport. So I thought... well, I'm aware I'm no Lucien, but I thought you might like my company."
      We're on my couch, feet up on the coffee table, eating our takeout as we watch Britain's Got Talent on the tv. Frank's snoring loudly next to Brie after having given up on stealing our food.
"So how was it?" he asks, pretending he hasn't just dropped an entire bite of rice onto my sofa.
"France?" I try and clear up his question.
"France, spending time with Lucien, having sex again...." he wiggles his eyebrows.
"France was lovely, thank you for asking," I laugh, stealing a bite of his sweet and sour eggplant, which I realise I hate as soon as I chew on it. "And spending time with Lucien was... it was surreal, but I'm glad we got to do it. We talked a lot, made up for lost time, just really enjoyed each other's company, you know?"
"Okay, bla, bla, bla," he rolls his eyes. "I want to know about the sex, Emma."
"There wasn't any," I shrug, watching Brie's eyes widen.
"There. Wasn't. Any?" he tilts his head forward, looking confused. "Excuse me?"
"Not that it's any of your business, because you probably set up more bets...," I sigh as Brie pretends that's definitely not true, though I know him well enough to know it definitely is. "At first we didn't sleep together because his test results didn't come in, then we just kept on getting interrupted. His father was there, which didn't really make for the optimal love making atmosphere."
"Weak excuses," he tells me, shaking his head. "You guys couldn't keep your hands to yourselves at the party, and yet you tell me in the time you were in France, you didn't even have sex once? No heavy petting, no hands in pants, no oral, nothing?"
I shrug once more. "Nothing. Believe me, we both wanted to, it just didn't happen."
"God," Brie groans, dropping his head backwards in frustration. "I can't believe this."
"Well, I'm sorry that our sex life doesn't live up to your expectations..."
"No, no, not that," he sighs, "well, that too, but I now have to pay Matt fifty bucks because he predicted this would happen."

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