Infatuation: Book One of the Infatuation Series

Chapter Ninety-Eight: Stupidly So...

Pierre's PoV:

Y/n's head is resting on your chest. Her warm fingertips run along your stomach, from side to side, and occasionally she changes the rhythm, making them run from north to south. She put on some of her music - Bon Iver, you think - and the tears have stopped rolling down her flustered face.

Her breath is still deep and heavy, but not as hectic as before. If you could, you'd take all her agony and pain away. Charles has inflicted too much on her since the beginning of the season, so you grasp why she wants to take a break from him. Your hands run along the nape of her neck and along her scalp, her hair moving aside to let your fingers pass by.

Pierre whispers: Do you want to continue to talk about it, do you want a distraction or do you want silence, ma chérie?

Her head shifts, now making her sombre green eyes focus on you.

y/n softly: Distraction, please...

You nod gently, while continuing to run your fingers along her scalp.

Pierre: I accepted the offer.

She sits up in surprise - Now you can see the full extent of the tears. Her eyes are redder than they seemed, her face is a little puffy and pale, and her cheeks are still slightly wet.

y/n: Really?

Pierre nods: You said it was okay, right?

That 'really' of hers genuinely just made you second guess if it was the right decision.

y/n smiling: Of course! Ahh, I'm so happy for you, Baby-

She wraps her arms around your neck for a long hug, and you can't grasp why she picked you. She continues to hype you up, making you feel prouder and prouder by the level up in your career and she genuinely seems so undeniably happy for you.

She goes on and on, and you can't wrap your mind around the support, love and excitement you are feeling in her presence. This is real, and you're sure not everyone gets to experience this sort of love in their lifetime.

y/n excitedly: We should throw you a party, or host a little dinner for your family and friends to celebrate this, mon amour! If you want me to, I can plan the whole thing-

You zone out for a moment.

Pierre dreamily: I love you.

Her eyes widen for a moment, as her pupils follow suit, dilating as she looks right into your eyes.

y/n flustered: Properly?

There isn't loving someone un-properly. You've loved her forever now, and she knew that, but you never truly directed it at her like this.

Pierre chuckles: Of course I properly love you-

Her cheeks become fuller as she starts smiling brightly.

y/n: Is that so, Gasly?

You playfully roll your eyes, as she scoots onto your lap, securing your face between the palms of her hands. You nod softly.

Pierre quietly: Undeniably too. Properly and undeniably, ma chérie.

y/n chuckles: Good...

Pierre sighs: More than racing too...

y/n laughs: Oh really?

Pierre smiles: Absolutely. I'd quit if you'd ask-

She gives you a look that pretty much says 'Be fucking for real Gasly' and you give her a bright smile, both of you knowing that wouldn't properly ever happen.

y/n softly: I'd never ask you to give it up, you know that right?

Pierre quietly: I know, ma chérie. I'm trying to put it in perspective though...

y/n: Interesting, Gasly...

You throw your head back, as you can't seem to get a response out of her. Y/n pulls you back, pressing a long, and lasting kiss onto your lips.

y/n whispers: I-

Time practically stands still right now. Her heart beats against your chest. Go on my Love... Say it back - Please.

y/n quietly: I really fucking love you too, Pierre. Properly. More than that even. Stupidly in love to be honest.

You can't contain your smile anymore - Her actions spoke louder than any words could for the last few weeks, but it's so fucking satisfying to hear her say it like this, and truly mean it.

Pierre chuckles: When aren't you stupid though-

She gives you a playful push, and you don't even let her get away from you.

y/n mockingly: My stupidity increases when I'm in a ten meter radius of you, that's for sure you moron-

You laugh as your arms wrap around her waist, pulling her right against you. She's yours. Fuck. She's yours.

You let that sink in, as she presses small kisses on your face, scattering them about, to ensure no part of your face feels neglected.