𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 | 𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐊𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐢𝐧

𝐈𝐗 : 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐃𝐚𝐲𝐬

Ever since the day of unsuccessful shopping with Mr. Arlert, your heart and mind remained entirely unbothered by any issues clouding them. You could read, eat, and sleep in peace again; you regretted ever taking a clear soul for granted. This newfound bliss lightened your steps, brightened your skin, and maybe even strengthened your hair.

Was this that tricky little emotion that Sasha had cautioned you to carefully search for as you grew? You knew she would smack you upside the head for labeling it so early, but you could not put a better word to your feelings.

This feeling was love.

When she described the sensation, she made it seem so much more intense, but her version must differ from yours. It was not a matter of starvation or death, as your surrogate sister had conveyed, but rather a soft, sweet, simple feeling that made your stomach queasy each time you thought of crystal eyes.

So, when Mr. Arlert collected you from your veranda to join him and Mr. Kirstein in the parlor, your heart pounded with hammering thuds. As you sat prettily in your favorite floral chair, you smiled sweetly, but not too intensely, at the blonde across from you on the sofa.

"Alright. We have five days to spend together before I leave," the author began. "The way that I've planned for us to become better acquainted goes as follows: today, we will enjoy each other's company. Tomorrow, I will set up an activity. Y/n will choose something to do the next day, then Jean the next, and the last day we can spend it however we please. Does that seem fair?"

"This is pointless. We should ignore each other while you are away. That would be easier, and I can go back to my nap," Mr. Kirstein complained.

"But it would not foster comradery! You two would make excellent friends if you put your best efforts forward!

"It's a wonderful idea, Mr. Arlert," you said as you glared at the Frenchman.

Mr. Kirstein smirked back at you. "Would you like to go to your room again, Raiponce? One curse from your lips, and this whole week can be spent locked away in a tower."

"One word from me regarding your behavior, and Niccolo will ship you off to the inn." The Frenchman's smirk fell at your mention of your great protector.

"If you both would be quiet, I can discuss what we're doing." Mr. Arlert shifted to the edge of the sofa and began fiddling with some things he had laid out on the table before you arrived. You only noticed the prepared embroidery hoop or the pieces of paper when he pushed them to the center of the table. "Y/n? The sewing circle is for you. Jean, you can take a few blank sheets for sketching. I will proofread my latest chapter. We're going to work in silence."

You and Mr. Kirstein exchanged confused glances, and this befuddlement felt like the first time the two of you shared any common ground.

"You brought us here to sit in silence?" the Frenchman asked.

"I did. I believe quietly tolerating each other would be a healthy way to start, given your particularly abysmal behavior. Should the spirit compel you, you can each share what you practiced while I supervise." Mr. Arlert leaned back into his seat and focused all his attention on his writing.

You were in school again, but you adored your instructor this time rather than feared him. Taking your instruments in your hand, you studied them closely as though you were preparing for an exam. You were unsure where Mr. Arlert found the threads and needles he supplied you, as they certainly were not from your collection. The needles felt far too expensive to be anything you would purchase, and the fabric had a much higher thread count than anything in your sewing room. Mr. Kirstein's paper was not the usual parchment Niccolo kept in the house for letter-writing, either. The same went for the fresh pack of lead pencils placed neatly on the table that the artist was currently reaching into.