flowers at sea -lukadrien

-Prologue- waiting'waited

9 years old

2011

 Brittany, France

Plage Boutrouilles beach

The soft breeze blew onto my skin, messing up my black hair, sending chills down my arm. The view of the sea, the majestic clear blue ocean, I've always felt a connection with it. How the water clashed and wailed before retreating back into the sea, how the waves carried little shards of shells as each one came and left or the occasional screams and shouts of the kids playing around. 

I strummed a chord on my guitar, picking on each strings gently with my soft, delicate fingers, the music sang along with the sound of the wind and the waves, as if it has always been that way, gentle and sweet, innocent and mysterious.

My fingers danced along, I didn't know what I was playing but it sounded nice, I wish I could play like this forever and ever in a never ending cycle of comfort and joy.

A minor, C major, G major, D minor, my left hand moved with the rhythm, my right hand shadowing it spontaneously, that's the most mind blowing part of playing the guitar, how one person and an instrument could create such an magnificent tune, conveying one's feeling in a unique yet defined way.

"Hey," a voice of a young boy came, "I like your playing,"

I lifted my head, finding the owner of the voice, a boy stood before me, he had a cute rosy cheek completion and large green eyes. The most intriguing part about him was his golden, bright blonde hair, complimenting the sun. He wore blue jeans and a white jacket, proper and neat, making my simple beach shorts and t shirt look like a disgrace.

"T-thanks," I stammered embarrassingly at the sudden compliment.

His eyes glimmered with glee, "I'm Adrien, I'm seven years old." he said in his immature cute voice, he sat down and crossed his legs beside me, "What's your name?"

"I'm Luka, nine years old," I didn't know how to continue the conversation, I wasn't sociable for a kid. He didn't seem to care.

"You play the guitar?"

"Um,"

"Coooool, what grade are you in?"

I looked down at my guitar disappointingly, "I just started playing, I don't take lessons."

"Oh, I'm 3rd grade in piano," he formed a frown, "I hate piano."

"Then why don't you stop?"

"My father insist that I must be good at piano for people to praise me,"

"That's not true,"

He shrugged it off casually, "I don't know, I model for my dad, he's a fashion designer. He says I need to be dress proper and act like adults because I'll meet a lot important people, I don't really care but my father gets really angry when I talk back or disobey him, I always get timeout when I do something wrong."

"B-but you're only seven, what does he expect?"

"I'm special," he grinned, "Father says I'm special and that I was born to him for a reason."

"And you believe him?"

He flicked his head in my direction, leaning forward towards me, "I don't need a reason to think I'm special, do you?"

"I'm not special, I'm just normal."

"No," he shook his head, staring into my eyes, "I can see it, you are special."

"How do you know?"

"I just do,"

A faint shout was heard from afar and Adrien stood up hurriedly, "Gotta go," he panicked, "The gorilla found me."

"The gorilla? Who?"

"My bodyguard, he saw me, I need to go." 

He took a step away from the shade, I instinctively held onto his jacket sleeve, "Will you come back tomorrow?"

"Maybe," he decided, "I'll come if I can."

"Same place, same time?"

"Yeah."

With a simple wave, he ran off, away from my sight, my eyes following his shadow as he left.

The next day, I waited and waited,

1 day.

2 days.

3 days.

He never came back,

and I never saw him again.