The one who made us meet – Part 1

Bynoemie bt

The one who made us meet – Part 1

Everything belongs to me: history, characters, … All rights reserved.

Some places are inspired by existing places.

The point of view or ideology of my characters does not (necessarily) reflect that of my person.

I’m sorry if there are any inconsistencies.

It is composed of 6 parts, not to mention the bonuses I have planned to write.

Hoping you’ll like it,

Have a good read!


First part:

“To those who love to die…”

The one who made us meet:

In front of the shop he had wanted for several years, Vincent signed the administrative papers before returning them to the old man. Lastly . The shop was his.

The first place he met him. He, the blonde of his dreams. The one he loved more than anything. Alexander Weargrive.

A young man who had taken his heart and had it, in the most cruel way possible, broken into thousands of fragments. In an irreparable heart.

He returned to reality, far from those nostalgic thoughts, when the former owner saluted him before leaving.

He observed a few minutes the rather seductive entrance to this little shop, reminding of the remnants of the past. A little smile was drawn on his fine lips.

Walls made of beautiful stones, a large wooden door and a small oak sign where he had engraved: «Boutique de souvenirs».Simple but beautiful.

No glass allowed the interior to be distinguished; making the whole mysterious.

The majority of customers who pushed the door were attracted to the curiosity of discovering the hidden wonders of the lair.

End his contemplation, he penetrated inside before freezing.

Nothing had changed. Everything was like in his memories. 

On his left, shelves filled with trinkets, dishes and decorations.

A window left the sun’s rays illuminating the many objects of various times.

In the center, there was a fairly recent counter, where papers and pens were stored in disorder. And in the back, two shelves. The first was dedicated to teas from different countries and the second was a well furnished library.

The right side of the room consisted of furniture and paperboard with glass objects.

The walls were covered with clocks and frames. And from the roof, lamps and a jar with a swimming fish hanged. All these elements made the place magical.Especially for those with a child’s heart.

Vincent jumped when a cat came out of nowhere, jumped to greet him while meowing.

The young man went down and caressed him affectionately.

Leaving the cat, he looked at the time displayed on his wrist watch. He sighed;It was time for him to get to work so he could open the shop the next day.

He pulled out a pocket mirror and watched himself.

He, on the other hand, had changed his mind. Probably because of the grief he had felt over the past few years.

No more piercings adorned his face; His tattoos remained unapparent under his tie-suit, closed to the neck. The features of his face were drawn. Big circles had taken place before his eyes and it seemed that they no longer wanted to leave him.

His complexion was pale, way too much to look pretty. His nose slightly hunched, ever since he got caught up in a goddamn quid pro quo. his brown hair with indomitable fuses.

These eyebrows were now frowned, most of the time. But for him, the worst remained his eyes.

He had a haunted and bruised look. Something that brought him back to the harsh reality.

He thought of a quotation seen and reviewed in books and films: «the eyes are the mirror of the soul». Sad and annoying truth.

He sighed of weariness.

Suddenly the bells of the shop sounded, surprising the brown.

A child about eight years old appeared at the entrance.

A young girl who seemed to come from a distant time. She looked like a porcelain doll.

The rounded face of childhood, big eyes of sky blue color, a small nose, pink lips, cheeks blushing with autumn cold.

This beautiful face was framed by long black hair.

But what caught the man’s attention, was the long red silk dress with many froufrous;recalling the dresses of the time when kings ruled the world.

When she saw him, the girl stopped sharply before asking with a sweet voice:

‘Hello sir, do you know where Mr. Gilbert is?

It took him a few seconds before he understood the question and answered it.

Good morning. Mr. Gilbert has retired, so he’s no longer the owner— He gave up the shop to me…. I’ll say half an hour, we signed all the paperwork.

The little girl’s eyebrows frowned. His eyes did not leave the man in front of her, observing his slightest movements. He felt like he was being analyzed.

He’s swallowing up.

“He did not warn me.”

Vincent looked sorry.

“Ah, sorry. Do you come often?”

Without hesitation, the minor replied:

Yes. I’m a regular customer. I come every Tuesday and Friday from my evening classes. He didn’t give me any information about the change of ownership…. Certainly an oversight on his part. Is the shop closed?

“Yes, since I have just arrived, in order to get used to it so that I may take my mark.”

“I am sorry for the inconvenience. I will leave immediately. Oh, and welcome!

Vincent was surprised . She seemed mature for her young age; whether it’s the way he expresses himself or the way he holds himself straight, with his head held high, but with respect.

‘Oh, no. Don’t leave! You’re not disturbing. And I don’t want to spoil your habits…

She gave him a smile of gratitude and extended her hand:

– Market eleonore, what about you? Will schedules change?

He gently took the extended hand and gently squeezed it; surprised by the softness and coldness of the child’s fingers.

Vincent. My name is Vincent Mark. Nice.I don’t think I’m changing the schedules. It would be embarrassing for the regulars.

‘I see, thank you, and likewise, I am delighted to meet you. Ah, and may you … Um…

Vincent blushed when he realized he was still holding his hand in his hand.

He let her go.

“Thank you.”

She then went to the library, looked at the books there, picked one, and flipped through it.

Vincent stopped looking at her and went about his business.

About twenty minutes later, Éléonore left the book recently bought under his arm.

Vincent sighed again.

He did not know why, but the feeling of knowing the child occupied his thoughts. She seemed so familiar to her that it was troubling. Something about her reminded her of someone. Her eyes grew in shock. She reminded her of a certain blondie… Was it a trick his mind was playing?He didn’t know anything about it. And for a long time, he had given up discerning the true from the false.

But what if it was true? A thrill of terror crossed her dorsal spine. This child had to suffer.

He pinched his lips. He was not to interfere. But, what if she was really suffering?

He gave a violent kick in the counter while screaming various insults.

Vincent couldn’t be a simple viewer. Not again. He wouldn’t. There was no way the end was the same. He couldn’t stand it. Not this time. His heart would definitely let go.

To follow in the next part…

I hope you enjoy reading this first part. I tried to translate at best using Reverso (mainly) and by checking with Google translation. I cross my fingers so that it is the right translation….;)

About the author

noemie bt author

Une jeune fille/femme qui écrit avec plaisir lorsque l'inspiration vient et que les mots ne me fuient pas. Fan de mangas, anime, romans... J'aime lire, regarder des films/anime/séries. Je dessine, niveau débutante. La musique est mon amie et m'accompagne souvent lorsque j'écris, dessine ou autres.

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