Foto bij 462 - Emma

Lucien leaves, and the appartment immediately feels a little less like home. It's still a safe space, to which I happily return after work, but it's different without him around.
Especially knowing he won't be back for a long time, probably not even for my birthday, makes it harder to walk the place alone. I've been laying on our couch for what feels like hours, listening to the same song on repeat because I'm too lazy to choose a different one. Frank is running around the place, still finding new spots to explore. He's having the time of his life with all of this space to roam around and hide.
Our article was posted today, which we could've expected, though it came as a total surprise because I've lost track of time. It's nicely done, the pictures are gorgeous and there's nothing written that bothers me. As requested, the whole engagement angle was left out, and what's left is a nice piece on how we broke up, then got back together and are now working things out.
Reading it only makes me miss him more, though now I have more to remind me of him. The furniture we picked out together, our pictures slowly put up all around the house, his favourite food in the fridge and his stuff in our bathroom.
From the corner of my eye, I spot Frank chasing what looks like a fly, and I manage to get myself off of the couch. Staying there and feeling miserable won't help a single bit, and this whole self pity act can't continue to be my thing every time Lucien leaves.
Out on the balcony, I take in our new view. It's lovely, with some appartments around us, but most of it taken up by the park only a two minute walk from our front door. It's dimly lit by street lanterns, and I can see couples strolling through the little paved areas.
The balcony was the last area we furnished, and is a mix and match of new and old furniture. To my absolute joy, it fits an outdoor dining area, and two nice little sofa's. I sit down on one of them, lighting the joint that came with the move from my old appartment. Sun has gone down a while ago, and it's my favourite time of day. The only thing making it more perfect would be having Lucien here, having him stroke my hair as I lay in his lap.
I read a bit of one of the many books I've told myself to read lately, slowly feeling myself get a little more high, and hearing Frank scream bloody murder at the door.
Once again, when I get distracted from my chapter, I read through our interview. I tell myself to e-mail Alex a thank you note tomorrow, for how delicately and carefully he has put our story to paper.
Right now, I'd love to call Lucien about it, but with the time difference I'm not sure if I should. Considering it's already late here, it might be truly late wherever he is, or too early. In stead, I send him a picture of my situation at the moment - our view, a few candles lit on the outdoor table.

Four days later, I've gotten slightly used to Lucien not being around. It's still not my favourite thing, coming home to an empty appartment, but it's... okay.
I've created an entire routine. I come home from work, start up dinner, feed the cat, have dinner by myself on the couch while I watch an episode of either Pretty Little Liars or Gossip Girl, clean the kitchen, pour myself a glass of wine, take a bath with some lavender bubble bath, watch whatever is on tv, and go to sleep. It's boring, but it gets me through the day.
Frank sleeps with me every night, pressing himself tightly against me as soon as I lay down, then wakes me up around six every morning, begging me to get up and feed him until I eventually do.
Lucien and I text every day, but due to time differences calling gets lost on us most of the time, and if we do call it's usually conversations cut short by either one of us getting interrupted.
I've taught my last class, packing my stuff to head to the train station, eager to get back home. It's thursday, and my weekend has started, meaning I'll only have more time alone.
Just before I'm actually about to head out, I notice eager eyes peering in my direction. Most of them are unfamiliar faces, though some of them I recognise from my classes.
It's where my insecurity kicks in, and I'd love nothing more than to just run off, get home as quickly as I can. I hate the prying eyes, the judgement in their looks, especially because I don't know what it's all about.
As I sit down in an empty compartment for my fifty minute ride home, my phone rings, signaling Brie is calling me. He hardly ever calls, and because I assume he knows I'll be lonely and is probably about to invite me over or out, I pick up immediately.
"Brie," I smile, snacking on some baby carrots I packed. "What's up?"
"Have you spoken to Lucien yet?" He doesn't even take time to introduce the conversation, which immediately makes me worry.
"Is everything alright?" My brain immediately gives me multiple scenarios, from plane crash to robbery, and I can feel my heart racing. "Brie, what's going on?"
"Nothing.. nothing horrible. It's just...," I can tell he's taking a deep breath. "Can you come over to mine as soon as you get to Edinburgh?"
"Brie, is Lucien okay?" I ask him, not quite reassured by whatever he has said.
"I think so, I haven't... spoken to him yet. It's... just don't check social media and head over to mine as soon as you get here, okay?"
"Brie, what's going on?"
"Just get here, okay, Em?"

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