Forget-Me-Not

Before the war

You can do this Y/n
You can do this Y/n
You can do this Y/n

You squinted your eyes closed as you stood up. Your fist paused at the door you had knocked so many times before.

Knocking was easy, it was a simple process, a ball of an unemotional fist that you would then pull back and then pull forward-

And you're rambling, are you scared? Of course you're not scared, you just talked to him the other day.

But he was just so good at getting you off-topic. But that was just coincidental, right? He wasn't the first person to ask about your art or your general interests, but-

Damn it, he's distracted you without even actually being right in front of you.

You sigh, pinch your fingers, and then you knock.

Nothing, no one comes to the door.

You knock once more.

And nothing again.

Is he out on duty?

You tilt your head, your stomach untwists a bit in dare you say relief at the thought of him not being here, because you truly didn't want to talk to the soldier...right?

CLANG

You jump at the noise that comes from the Dreyse's backyard.

You follow the noise like a dog on a trail, and it leads you directly behind the house. And at the end of your crumb trail is the soldier you were looking for.

He's bent over, mumbling curses through a cigar as he picks up a fallen-over rake.

He's not dressed in his normal attire, instead, he's dressed in a white button up with one button loose that reveals the pale of his chest. For the rest of his outfit, he has on a simple set of black pants and shoes, nothing special or spectacular.

If anything, he looks relaxed outside of his uniform.

And that was the entire reason you came today, right?

To talk to him on his own turf instead of your own.

"Madam Dreyse's isn't here, she's at church. But I assume you're well aware of that."

He eyes you up and down as he stands.

"You're correct Monsieur, I'm here for you. "

He raises a brow, "And why might I have the pleasure of your presence again Madame?"

You can hear the sarcasm dripping off his tongue, and you have to pinch yourself to stop anything from falling off your own.

"I came here to apologize for my behavior from our last meeting. It was unruly and highly inappropriate, and I hope you can forgive me."

You bend down a bit, hoping that he could feel your shame as you weren't lying at all. Even if he had provoked you in numerous ways, it had seemed that your mouth had gone flying at him, or about him numerous times, and to you, that was just plain uncouth.

"You're forgiven...I guess. Is that all?"

A small smile graces your lip at his forgiveness, and as you stand fully, you smile as you shake your head.

"I was hoping you and I could try again? I would like to talk to you."

He squints his eyes at you again, and tilts his head. He's trying to read what you're getting at, what your game plan is. No one in France has ever walked up to the dark-haired soldier and asked to talk to him about anything.