fin de siècle ; mixte 1963

chapter 5 ; troubled words of a troubled mind

Gisele woke up tired, hungover and most importantly, with a giant disarray of thoughts in mind. She was well aware of the fact it was highly irresponsible of her to go to the races in the middle of the week, especially now that she had to get ready for school, but she didn't regret it in the slightest; she finally had a chance to relax and she felt glad not to have wasted it.

Despite that, Gisele simply couldn't shake off her newfound self-awareness that came to her last evening, when her friend placed that gentle kiss on the top of her head. She couldn't pretend that it didn't change anything, that it didn't make her think.

Gisele liked Joseph; could it be that she liked him more than she was supposed to? He was her friend and it wasn't like he kissed her on the lips. It was just a quick peck, not even a skin-to-skin, one that could be done even by her brother. That didn't mean that he liked her and the fact that Gisele enjoyed it definitely did not mean that she fancied him.

He was a boy and an attractive one, to be fair; it wasn't that much of a surprise that the whole situation from yesterday made her a bit... flustered. Gisele came to a conclusion that she was allowed to feel this way and she was allowed to think Joseph was a handsome boy and a potentially good partner; it still did not mean she was in love or some other stupid shit.

Getting ready for school felt like being on autopilot. She put on one of her warmer dresses, the mulberry-coloured one, tied her hair into a loose ponytail, then immediately went downstairs to meet her brother.

"Fuck off, Jean," she mumbled, reaching for coffee. She could tell by his expression that he had something stupid to say and she was simply not ready to deal with his bullshit yet.

Jean, of course, didn't listen.

"Well, I must say, you've excelled me, dear sister," he teased. "Drinking in the middle of the week? That's a great achievement, even for a Dupin."

"I said fuck off, Jean," usually, Gisele would join in on the banter, but not this morning. Her head was throbbing, she didn't sleep well and she felt like she was going to puke.

"You're lucky Descamps walked you off. If you were by yourself, I would ground you myself." said her brother, taking a sip of his own coffee. For some reason, that remark made Gisele angry.

"You're not my father," she spat out, looking at Jean savagely.

To be honest, she had no idea what made her so furious; maybe it was the fact she was in a big muddle about her own feelings, maybe she was annoyed with the thought of Jean trying to control her. Maybe she was just tired and all of this was too much for her to handle and maybe-

"You're right, I'm not. But if he was here, I'm pretty sure that's what he would do."

Gisele let out an ironic laugh.

"He wouldn't because he doesn't fucking care," her voice grew louder, despite her trying to keep it down. It didn't matter anyway; It was just the two of them, after all. It always was just the two of them.

It was Jean's turn to fleer. In his eyes, Gisele could see some unidentifiable glint; she had no idea whether to take it as a good or bad sign.

"Well, we'll see about it soon," he replied, throwing an opened letter into her direction. Gisele was still unaware what he was referring to when she picked up the message and suddenly, everything cleared up.

"They're coming home."

***

The petty fight from the morning quickly evolved into a big argument about everything and nothing. Gisele wasn't even mad at her brother, and she had an inkling he wasn't angry with her either; both of them were just stressed and decided to take it out on each other, which ended up with Gisele storming out of the house and going to school by herself.