stuck on you || draxler

vingt et un

mercredi 18:14

Draxler and Vaugrenard Spotted Together Again

"You know, I kind of get tired of these headlines." Marcelle said as she make some last few touch ups on her makeup. "Draxler and Vaugrenard this, that. It just gets...repetitive, you know?"

"I know how you feel," Julian responded as he waited in the other room.

Today was something quite different. Not just for Marcelle, but for the both of them.

Today was the day of a gala in Paris set up to raise money for a certain charity Julian didn't remember the name of. He only planned to come because his other teammates were attending, and it would make him look good under the public eye.

But with Marcelle by his side now, he decided to make use of the situation and ask her to be his date for the gala (as if they weren't dating already).

He sat in the bedroom of his Paris flat while Marcelle was finishing the final touches on her look behind the bathroom door. She came to his place with a dress in a large plastic bag and her backpack which had makeup (not to mention she said she had makeup lessons by Laure yesterday).

Julian wasn't very much of a public kind of guy. He enjoyed his privacy, only sharing what he felt was comfortable. This gala was really pushing his limits as he was rarely ever seen outside out the pitch.

But going out with Marcelle? He was really going to start a storm.

"You know, you really don't have to wear makeup," Julian spoke. "I think you're beautiful just the way you are."

"This is a public event with a bunch of rich looking people, so I feel like I should look...not dead," she responded. "And besides, I wanted to try out wearing makeup while without looking like a drama queen."

Julian snickered a little, but loud enough for Marcelle to hear. "I think you already are a drama queen." Just earlier, Marcelle was making a fuss because he threw out a croissant he found in the back of his pantry. According to her, it still smelled good, maybe stale, but not yet rancid.

But you know Marcelle, she used to work at a cafe where she was basically surrounded by bread, so she's the worst of it all. The small croissant Julian threw out just made her let out the old Marcelle.

She huffed in the bathroom at his remark, rolling her eyes as she tried to focus on the final touches of her makeup.

The last time she had worn makeup was when she was eighteen—the year she finished her education at the lycée. And even at that point, she had to follow step by step from a YouTube video.

It was also the first time Marcelle had worn a dress in a very, very long time. The last time, she thinks, might be some day during the summer, but she can't accurately recall it. The dress she was wearing tonight however, she liked it so much. She was just worried she wouldn't look flattering in it. 

"Juju," she called out from the bathroom. "It is okay if I leave my makeup in your bathroom? It's kind of messy, and I don't know if you want to—"

"Yeah, it's fine," he responded. "And I kind of assumed that we were going back to my place after the gala, unless you wanted to go home."

"Eh, I kind of live here anyways."

She didn't give him any warning at all, just silence before she walked out of the bathroom, practically taking away Julian's breath once he laid eyes on her.

It was a long flowy wine red dress, tight and fitting at the top, loose at the bottom and just about an inch of it dragging at the bottom. Marcelle herself looked stunning in it, which was topped off with her makeup of a glittery eyeshadow, a pinkish, due lip color, and some of that highlighter stuff she didn't understand. She felt like a whole different person, like what she would look like if she didn't get into football in the first place.