Chapter Text
Friday, July 5th – 7:17 P.M.
“Evening, girls.”
Alice wrinkles her nose.
An all too familiar silhouette approaches the group of women who are standing in front of the church entrance and chatting. The sound of her voice alone makes Alice's skin crawl.
Yet she turns her gaze to get a good look at her anyway. Her wavy, blonde hair is tucked elegantly in a big braided bun, curtain bangs leading into two longer strands of hair hanging down at the sides of her face. Her ears carry a golden earring each and her lips shine a dark red. Even that sparkly dress of hers is way out of place for the occasion.
She looks like she's attending a royal ball. Ridiculous.
“Fran,” says Emma, gasping upon seeing her, “Oh my, you look gorgeous! You all look way prettier than me. I didn’t put in nearly enough effort today, did I?” She whines, and the group chuckles. Alice stays silent.
“No, you're beautiful.” The blonde lays her hand on Emma's shoulder in an attempt to comfort her. A French accent teases at her words. “I just had too much time on my hands tonight. Don't worry.” What an attention seeker. Alice scowls and crosses her arms.
“You're just saying that,” Emma pouts playfully, but then gets distracted by some students who are eager to talk to her. She gets pulled away from the group.
“Alice,” the woman finally calls her name, “good to see you, too. Didn't you say you wouldn't come?”
“As you can see, I changed my mind.” She rolls her eyes. She should've stayed home after all. Her mood’s already in the gutter.
Before Francine can say anything else, Ekaterina saves the day and changes the topic. “I think they're giving out free champagne in the yard. Wanna grab some?”
“Sounds nice! And we'd better sit down already, no? Before it gets too full. I don't wanna have to fight for a seat.” Erzsébet does have a point. The group of women heads into the church yard.
A loud bang of the orchestra instruments shakes Alice out of her trance. How long has it been since they sat down? It feels like an eternity, but it's probably only been around fifteen minutes. She doesn't know what she expected from a school choir performance. Every year, she does this to herself, even though it's proven to be more and more boring and repetitive each time.
And of course, she ended up sitting beside Francine of all people, who watches the performance as though it's the most captivating thing in the world. Alice's gaze lingers on her features as she stares at her with furrowed eyebrows. Her pointy nose, freshly done lashes, rosy cheeks. How can someone look so effortlessly perfect? And how can it be this infuriating?
“You know, I can see you staring,” the Frenchwoman finally whispers, and Alice flinches. She averts her gaze only to feel Francine’s eyes on her the very next moment. Her face burns up.
“Shut up, Frenchie.”
“What's wrong with you today? You're off.” She scoots closer and her breath tickles Alice's ear. She bites her tongue.
“Nothing is wrong. You're just being annoying as always.”
“Oh, ma chérie,” Francine chuckles, placing her hand on Alice's thigh. “If I'm so annoying, then why do you always choose to be by my side?” The latter reflexively grabs her hand and shoves it away, but Francine uses the opportunity to gracefully entwine their fingers. Shit, now Alice can't break free without making a scene. She scoffs, defeated.
“Not my fault you ended up next to me.”
Their hands rest, interlaced, on the cool wood of the church bench. Alice doesn’t dare blink in her direction. Instead, she looks around – if anyone had seen the exchange. Thankfully, it doesn’t seem like it. At least they're sitting at the very edge of the row, not right in the middle.
The voices of the choir fade to a blur as the pounding of her heart fills her head. She's still holding her hand. Her grip, however, has loosened. Alice could easily escape.
But she doesn't.
Francine gently caresses Alice's skin with her thumb. Butterflies rise in her stomach. She swallows a lump.
She hates how this woman has her wrapped right around her finger at all times. Or the way she knows what makes her nervous and red in the face. Or when she looks at her, with a smile and eyes as though she can read exactly what she's thinking.
She wishes she could say that she hates her.
But she doesn't.
A roaring applause echoes throughout the church and Francine finally takes off her hand to join it. Alice claps too, though she must admit she hasn't been paying attention for the past half-hour, approximately. Even now, her mind’s still hazy.
She can’t believe it. The way this comes to her so easily, to leave Alice weak in the knees with no more than a touch. It drives her mad.
Yet she finds herself yearning for that feeling anyway.
The principal steps onto the altar and rattles down his usual thank-you speech. Bouquets of flowers are given to the conductor and the pianist, and little by little, the people start getting off their seats and going about their ways.
“This one’s on me!” announces Erzsébet, and she's met with cheers from the entire table. “To my husband and this fantastic evening!” Her speech is slurred already and she's glued to Roderich’s arm, who is evidently embarrassed by her behavior. He clears his throat.
“Don't you think that's enough for tonight, Erzse?” He's trying to stay patient, but you can tell by his tone that he's getting more and more desperate. He had probably hoped to have a relaxing evening after conducting for an hour and a half, but his reality turns out to be far from it.
“What are you talking about! Not at all! We ought to properly celebrate your musical genius!” He sighs with the knowledge that he'll have to take care of her later.
The pub is bustling with patrons, cheerful voices and laughs ringing out from every corner and music coming from somewhere in the room. Most of the voices are those of the teachers who decided (or were persuaded) to come along after the performance – including Alice.
The next round of drinks arrives – Erzsébet snatches her beer and the others grab their wine or cocktail or whatever they ordered. Alice takes a sip of her daiquiri. She can no longer taste the rum.
She shouldn't be drinking this much with how lightweight she is. She most definitely won't be able to drive home like this.
At least it's helping her loosen up a little. She grins as she joins in on Kylie’s and Yao’s conversation.
A while passes before Alice feels a gentle tap at her shoe. Her eyes jump to the woman across from her, one seat to the left.
“Okay, hold on tightly– there you go.”
Alice's arm is hurled over the shoulders of none other than Francine, her feet barely matching the other's rhythm as she staggers next to her out of the bar doors. Some concerned voices are just a fog in the back of her mind – muffled, almost as though she's underwater. Alice leans closer to the woman holding her up. She smells nice.
“I don't feel so good–”
“Pull yourself together for a bit longer. We'll be home soon, okay?”
A worried sigh and the click of a car getting unlocked. Alice stumbles into the passenger seat and blinks at the Frenchwoman.
“Was there a reason you drank so much tonight? You know you're lightweight.”
“Mm…” hums Alice, her expression going from fond and dreamy to irked. She's suddenly irritated by her voice. “Leave me alone.”
Francine comes around to the driver's seat. “You should be thanking me, you know?”
“For what? You just wanna–hic!–take advantage of me.” Her head falls against the window with a thud. Francine turns on the engine and huffs.
“Yes, that's exactly what I'm planning.”
“See? You admitted it.”
“Just make sure you don't barf into my car.”
“It's not that bad…” Alice's eyes are heavy. She drank past her limit tonight for no reason. Now here she is, being chauffeured around by Francine – fuck.
She's definitely going to be ashamed about this tomorrow.
She turns her head towards Francine, whose gaze is fixed on the road. She has opened up her bun, so now her thick blonde locks tumble loosely down her shoulders. They shine beautifully even in the dark. Alice's eyes jump to her hands on the steering wheel. Her nails are long and painted in an elegant red, just like her lips.
She wants to kiss her so bad. She wrings her hands in her lap.
“Why are you so perfect?” whispers Alice after a while. She didn't want to speak those words aloud, but they had lingered on her tongue for far too long.
She's met with silence, however. It stings.
“Are we going to your place?”
“I'm bringing you home. There’s no way I’m letting you sleep at my place like this.”
Alice whines. “Why not–?”
Silence again.
Alice blinks and her heart sinks in disappointment. She was hoping for this to go differently. She wanted to spend the night at her place and…
“So you hate me?”
“Alice, please.”
“You find me disgusting and annoying and– and you don't really wanna be with me.” She can feel her eyes stinging with tears before she can do anything about it. She's well aware she's being ridiculous and irrational right now. Yet she can't seem to stop talking. “You're so perfect and beautiful, and I'm just an ugly witch.”
The car comes to a stop. Alice mumbles something along the lines of playing with my feelings and just to spite me, but those words are ignored as Francine comes around to her side to open her door and help her out of the car.
The next thing that Alice registers is her head hanging over the toilet and a weird taste in her mouth. A comforting hand rests on her back, another on her shoulder to hold her steady.
She sniffles and plops back on her butt.
“You okay?”
“Fuck… My head.” Her hands shoot up to her forehead and she winces. Now that her stomach is feeling lighter, the pain has moved to somewhere else.
“I know. Let's get you undressed first, alright?” Alice looks to her right through tear-stained glasses, where her boot lies across the bathroom tile floor. Her summer coat is half-off, hanging messily down her shoulders. Francine helps her remove it.
She's led to her bedroom and Francine disappears for a second. She's back with a big glass of water and a white pill in her hand. After all these years, she knows her flat by heart.
“Take this for the headache.”
She sits down at the side of Alice's bed and watches her swallow the pill. A concerned look is written across her face.
Alice groans in pain and lets her head fall into the fluffy pillow.
“I overdid it tonight, didn't I?”
“I think you know the answer to that better than anyone.” She tilts her head and puts a hand on Alice's wrist. God, she's a grown woman, yet she still acts like a teenage girl sometimes.
“Fuck… This is so embarrassing.”
“It's okay. That's exactly how I like you.”
Alice's heart flutters and her cheeks warm up.
“Don't lie.”
“I'm not.” Francine sighs and she caresses Alice's cheek with a gentleness that almost makes her tear up again. “And I don't hate you, nor do I find you ugly or disgusting.”
The next words out of her mouth sound more genuine than anything she has said before.
“You're the prettiest girl in the world to me.”
Any other time, Alice would have cringed out of her mind from the sound of that. But not now. Maybe it's the alcohol in her blood making her sentimental.
She clenches her fist. All this time, and she still feels the same way as she did fifteen years ago. That night after her band's first little concert on the shabby stage in some streetside pub.
A beautiful woman had approached her after the show.
Her English wasn't the best back then, but she had said to her that she loved how passionate she looked playing the guitar. That she sparked like fire and her fingers flowed like water on the strings. She had always been poetic.
Tu es ravissante, comme la lune.
That night was exciting. New. Unforgettable.
After she met her, her life had changed.
Sometimes she wishes to go back to the very moment they first kissed.
“I don't know why I got so emotional on the way here… I'm sorry.”
Francine chuckles. “It's okay.” She carefully takes Alice's glasses off her face and places them on the bedside table. Her voice is soft and mellow. “Is there anything else you need?”
A short silence in which Alice deliberates what to say.
“Can you stay?”
The moon is particularly bright tonight. Its gentle glow trickles through the curtains and illuminates the room in a dim hue. Francine smiles.
“I'll stay until you fall asleep, okay?”
“Okay.” Of course, she would like for her to stay longer. For her to hold her to sleep and wake up beside her and kiss her first thing in the morning. Maybe even make her breakfast, like she usually does.
She knows she should try to sleep, but part of her wants to savour this moment for as long as she can.
“Francine?”
“Yes?”
“Do you still love me like you used to?”
“God, Alice. You’re asking some questions.”
Francine takes her face into her palms and kisses her lips. She doesn’t seem to care about the fact she just threw up.
“What do you think? Of course I love you.” She kisses her forehead and whispers, “You have no idea.”
That’s all Alice needed to hear.
“Can you say that more often?”
“I would. I do. But you know how you are most of the time.”
It’s true, she likes to be dramatic. She likes to pretend to hate it when Francine comes to the science room to pester her after class. Whether she compliments or teases her, Alice either snaps at her or ignores her altogether. She insults her whenever possible with whatever comes to mind and she can rarely be seen looking at her with anything but disgust in her face.
But Francine should understand exactly what she means to say when she acts like this.
“Do it anyway.”
“I will, I will. Promise. Now rest. You need it.”
Her eyelids are heavy and she's dizzy and she doubts she’ll be able to fight the fatigue for much longer. At least she's not alone with Francine here. Her hand feels soothing, almost grounding as it strokes the back of Alice's. Eventually, she closes her weary eyes and slowly drifts away.
Alice blinks awake to the sun shining through the gaps of half-open blinds and an empty space where Francine had once sat.
She doesn't even dare think back on last night. She'd rather not remember the humiliating things she said and did.
God, and that headache. It's back. She swears to herself to never drink again.
The bathroom tiles are cold against her bare feet as she splashes some water on her face. She feels nasty all over. Maybe a shower will help. Might as well take a bath while she's at it. She lets the stream of water fill the bathtub and takes off her clothes.
Just as she is about to get into the tub however, her phone starts ringing from the bedroom. Irritated, she trots over and looks to see who’s calling.
“What do you want?” She snarls.
“Ah, I see you’re back to normal?”
“I was just about to take a bath.”
“Perfect timing, then,” teases Francine, “I only wanted to check up on you.”
“I’m fine.”
By now, she’s back in the bathroom and dips a foot into the warm water. She sits down in the tub and puts the phone somewhere nearby. A sigh.
“Did you sleep well?”
“Like a baby.”
“That’s good to hear.”
The phone screen blinks up again. A request to video-call.
“Are you serious?” She clicks her tongue, “Pervert.”
“I don’t know what you mean. I just wanna see your face.”
She hesitates before swiping up on the call. Francine smiles at her from the inside of a car.
“Bonjour, ma belle.”
“Where are you?”
“Hospital parking lot. I was visiting my mother.”
Oh. Now she regrets being rude a little. “I see. How is she holding up?”
“I mean… As good as it can get, with her condition. Since her admission, she's been sort of depressed. She used to meet up with people all the time, the extrovert she is. Now she’s all lonely.”
Alice feels compelled to say something to comfort her, but she never knows which words to use. Thankfully, before she can stammer something out, Francine changes the topic.
“I don’t wanna go home,” she says with a sigh, “I have a huge pile of work waiting for me.”
“Then do it before it becomes even bigger.”
“I’d rather do you.”
Alice curses herself for blushing at such a cheap line.
“I hate you.”
“Love you too.”
“I’m hanging up.”
“Wait,” Alice waits because of course she does, “before you do, do you have time tomorrow? At around seven in the evening?”
“Depends. What for?”
“Nothing special. Just dress nice. I’ll come pick you up.”
Does she have something planned out already? She sounds like she has a specific location in mind.
The blonde huffs and sinks further into the water. It’s nice and warm.
“You gonna kidnap me?”
A smug chuckle from the other end. “Perhaps. Would you like me to?”
“I hope you crash.”
Those are the last words Francine hears before the line is hung up.