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sergeant-spoons · 3 years

Text

What You Don’t Choose

Requested by our beloved Krysta 😘💕 @vintagelavenderskies I can’t believe how long this took to finish (sorry ‘bout that)

Pairing: Eugene Roe x Female OC

Prompts: "I know my heart." and "True love’s something you don’t choose."

Word count: 3764

Tone: Lighthearted, mutual pining, lots of unresolved romantic tension, fluff; stargazing, a visit to Paris; then we take a quick dive into angst; happy ending

Summary: She reminds him of home in the best ways. For so long, she’s ached to tell him just how much he means to her; he, in turn, struggles to voice how he’s known for ages that she’s the only one for him. Perhaps now, half a world away from everything they know, they can each find the courage to let their feelings fly free.

Taglist: @tvserie-s-world @thoughpoppiesblow @victoryrollsandredlips @now-im-a-belieber @50svibes @mgdln97 @josephtoye @tina1938 @drinkwhiskeyandsmile @ask-you-what-sir @indecisiveimpatience @whovian45810 @brokennerdalert

It didn't make sense, at first.

What was she doing here? Thousands of miles from her home, sliding out from under a cantankerous truck, her overalls stained with grease and oil. Waving a hello as she tugged at the handkerchief draped around her neck, muttering a soft judgment of the heat. Her drawl, ever familiar, trailing off as she looked a second time. He could see the recognition sparking in her eyes the moment before a grin broke across that lovely face.

Imagine that!

Out of all the regiments to be stationed with, she'd landed with his. What luck! And there he stood, grasping a clipboard so tight his knuckles had gone pale, watching it all with that same steady gaze she recalled well from their childhood. Noticing her, letting a smile appear in return to her own. Letting her wrap him in a hug as the thin wood in his possession clattered to the ground, then refusing her apology as she laughed, stooping to retrieve it.

"Henri."

"How you been, Gene?"

He looked to the ground, their fingertips brushing as he took back the clipboard, and really, what could she do but smile?

"'Sides th' war, I mean."

"Alright."

"Good." She nodded, slowly. "Real good. Hey- you a part o' the paratroops, now?"

"Sure am."

Another smile broke across her lips and she dusted a speck of lint off his red armband. "Always thought you'd make a good doctah. 'Zat what they call you, 'round here?"

How was it she could always pick him apart like that? "Mhmm."

A flicker of pride at the correct guess crossed her gaze, and she shifted in her stance, mouth opening, but a call came from behind a screen across the room and she hesitated.

"You shippin' out soon?"

"Don't think so." He tipped his head, glancing aside a second time. "Haven't heard otherwise."

"Well, I'll be on th' lookout." She brushed a light touch against his arm as she stepped back. "I gotta go, but..."

"I'll see you later, then." Just what she wanted to hear, they both knew.

"Yeah, yeah." A beat. "An' hey, Gene?"

He turned, and oh, how he knew that crooked smile well. "Don't miss me too much."

Nodding, he tipped his head in a silent agreement, though as he turned, he knew it would be a hopeless endeavor. He thought about her so often in her absence already, and now that she was here, he was certain there was little he could do to keep her out of his head- and his heart.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stargazing.

Henrietta knew she'd miss it once she went back to the States. Back home, there was little point in laying a blanket out on the marshy ground, swatting away the mosquitoes and flies and what-have-you-else every second or two, only to squint up at constellations most often hidden behind murky clouds. It wasn't that she didn't like Louisiana. She did. It was home, the land that raised her to be who she was today. Still, that didn't mean she couldn't have a few qualms about the place.

"What're you thinkin' 'bout?"

Henri hummed a quiet note, acknowledging she'd heard Gene beside her, but did not yet reply. She heard a quiet rustling of fabric beside her, and at his warm breath tickling her jaw, guessed he'd rolled over to watch her. Closing her eyes, she focused on her own breathing. Up, then down, her chest rose and fell. He'd always been good at making her dizzy, whether he knew it or not. She could hardly handle his gentle presence on its own, staring into the twinkling abyss with him at her side seemed an impossible feat.

"How the ground was always wet, back home."

A soft laugh. "Not much of a problem here, huh?"

"Nope." She smiled to herself. Henri had missed his quiet sense of humor. And the way he stifled his yawns with his hand over his mouth, his eyes shutting halfway. She could hear him doing so just now, and it made her remember all they'd left behind: the days of their youth, peacetime. For a while, each other.

Not anymore.

"How 'bout you?"

"Hmm?"

"What're you thinkin' of?"

He shifted again. The faint shadow of his chin overcast her neck, drawn by the dim light of the moon high above.

"Love."

Opening her eyes, Henri smiled, just a little, up at the stars. "Really?"

He shrugged, and she only caught the gesture out of the corner of her vision.

"That's always a nice thing." She scanned the sky, such a deep indigo it might as well have been called black.

"You think so?"

"I know so."

Gene stared at her, in the darkness. She was just laying there, watching the heavens in all their immeasurable distance. As if there wasn't a war on. As if they were home, staying out late in the yard by the magnolias while their parents chatted on the porch beside a sweating pitcher of iced tea. As if it was the easiest thing in the world to reach toward his hand without looking and wrap her fingers around his. How was it that she could fluster and steady him all the same? He became acutely aware of his respiration in the next few seconds as it seemed to sync with Henri's.

"You wanna hear somethin' you don't know?"

Gene pursed his lips, wondering in vain how she could draw such foolish suggestions from him so easily. He expected the skipping of his heartbeat before he felt it, understanding full well the effect of her closeness had on him. Her head lolled against her own shoulder and she ran her thumb along the side of his hand. He thought he might kiss her right then and there, as all the words dried up in his throat, but he froze instead.

"I sure would."

"You ever heard of true love?"

A soft smile, sleepy eyes.

"Mhmm."

"It's unpredictable."

Her quiet little laugh quite nearly gave him a heart attack. She was just too... perfect.

"I never took you for such a romantic," she teased, almost smirking but not quite, and he leaned a little closer despite himself. "I like it."

"Then I'll say it again." He felt like he was falling into the deep, deep sky, her hand in his the only thing keeping him from spiraling away, thoughts all hazy. "True love’s something you don’t choose."

"Oh, Gene." She squeezed his hand, letting the stars recapture her precious attention. "Tell me more."

So he did. He wondered aloud about destiny, and luck, and wishing on the stars until the grey glimmer of the early dawn blinked them out of sight. She laid there next to him, the whole while, and though it was late and they'd been up all day- and now all night -she didn't fall asleep. Henri let him keep holding her hand, didn't mind when his palm went sweaty, wondering if she could guess what he was hinting at.

As she folded the blanket, he stretched his legs, watching her out of the corner of his eye. She looked a little sleepy, but happy, and he was glad to know he was the reason for the thoughtful smile on her lips.

"My first shift's at 05:00," she muttered, squinting at her watch but having trouble seeing the hands.

Flicking the glass with a disgruntled sound, Henri heard a soft laugh from behind her and turned. Gene had that look on his face, the one where he thought something was sweet but wouldn't say so. She nearly swooned right then and there, and her hands felt a little weak as she placed the blanket in the small compartment of her motorcycle. She climbed on, then steadied the vehicle as he swung his leg over behind her. It took her three tries to start the engine, with his arms around her stomach and his chest leaned so nonchalantly against her back.

Driving back to the base at Aldbourne was a silent affair, in the way of speech, while the engine rumbled and purred and the winsome things of the world began to wake and chirp and buzz. She swung around to the house he was billeted in and waved goodbye, tossing up the kickstand with a careful flick of her heel as he climbed the steps. When she glanced over her shoulder one last time, she saw he was watching her go from the doorway. He smiled, and she turned her gaze back to the road, sure if she stayed a moment longer, she'd sprint into his arms and try to kiss him right then and there.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I don't need t' go in there, Muck, it's only a few scratches-"

"You're bleeding from half your arm, Tills, you definitely need medical attention."

Gene turned at the familiar voices, and for the second time since her arrival at Aldbourne, Henrietta Tillerman made him drop his clipboard. He left it on the floor as he beelined for her at the door, the amount of red staining her sleeve fretting him to pieces. Skip Muck nudged Henri forward as she glanced aside, holding her left arm at a strange angle.

"What's wrong? What happened? My God, Henri-"

"I'm fine, Gene," she tried to reassure, but he was having none of it.

Henri was always the sort to hide her own pain, fearing she would bother or burden others with her suffering. Not for the first nor the last time, Gene scolded her, lapsing into French, that her welfare was never trouble, not to him, or to any of her other friends. She, blushing let him push up her sleeve and take a look at the cuts crisscrossing her skin. The injuries weren't as bad as he'd thought, but they were many, and he sighed over each and every one, reaching for the medpack at his hip.

Beside them, Skip blinked, having not understood a single word of the medic's anxious reprimand, and cleared his throat. "So, ah, little miss heroism here was walkin' with us to lunch when she saw this old Brit on the side of the road. Saw his broken bike, wanted to help, ended up cutting her arm on the gear chain." He shook his head. "Got her here as quick as I could, but she kept sayin' she was alright."

"I'm not surprised," Gene muttered, shaking sulfanilamide over the cuts, and Henri drew in a sharp breath, relaxing only when he gently squeezed her hand.

"Well." Skip rocked back and forth on his heels. "I'll leave you two lovebirds to it, then."

Gene slowed, daring a glance at Henri. She was tugging her sleeve back down, shaking her head as she looked at the bandage in his hands.

"Don't need it-"

"Henri."

She frowned, yet relented and let him take her arm in his hands again. He pushed her sleeve out of the way and saw with some satisfaction the smaller of the cuts were mostly closed already. Wrapping the bandage around her arm, he was so focused on his work that he hardly noticed her clearing her throat.

"Gene."

"Mmm?"

"Gene-" She pulled her arm away, and the bandage snapped with the force of the motion. "-that's plenty. I'm-"

"If you say you're fine one more time, I'll-"

"What?" She narrowed her eyes. "You'll what?"

He threw up his hands. "I dunno! Henri, I got a right to worry 'bout you. You coulda got tetanus if that chain was rusty, I coulda been rollin' you outta here on a stretchuh-"

"But you aren't, so it's not a big deal," she scolded, then before he could muster a reply, exasperated only by the thought of her injury, not Henri herself, he felt her lips upon his cheek. "Thank you," she murmured, turning away, and he watched her take the steps out of the medbay two at a time, holding her arm a little further to the side than she normally would.

Gene raised his finger to his cheek and though he told himself to stop blushing, the inner reprimand was hardly of use. With a long, low, silent sigh, he crouched and returned his clipboard to his hand.

How, between the heavens and the earth, had she not realized how he felt for her?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Though Paris in December was cold, the beauty of the famous city certainly made up for the temperature. Henri could feel Gene's eyes on her as she stared up at the Eiffel Tower. She could see her breath, visible in the streetlamp light, and she wondered what the great monument before her was like when it was all lit up. The lights were taken down years ago, sure the great Tower would be an easy target for enemy planes. In the end, she mused sadly, it hardly mattered- the Nazis took over France by foot.

"Henri?"

She blinked, and it was as if in that millisecond, the world turned white as snow fell upon her lashes. Turning, she reached for Gene's hands, and he let her spin him in a little circle. She felt like a girl again, spending time with her best friend, though at the same time, she felt so grown-up. Here they were, in the place nicknamed the City of Love, an ocean away from home, soldiers on furlough from a war that seemed so distant and yet near as they spun at the foot of the Tower.

"Henri," he repeated, softly, and she smiled, coming to a stop. Gene looked up at the vast twists and turns of the famed landmark just meters from where they stood, hand-in-hand.

"It's nice. Bein' here, with you."

She stepped closer, and when he noticed, he wrapped one arm around her waist. Leaning into his side, her heart skipped, but at the same moment, felt so wonderfully at peace.

"Henri?"

"Yeah?"

"You 'member what I told you 'bout love?"

"True love?" At his nod, she turned her head onto his shoulder, his coat scratching her cheek, though not unpleasantly so. "'Course I 'member."

"Good-" His arm around her tightened just a little. "-'cause I been thinkin', with us in the City o' Love. Just you an' me."

"Gene?" She lifted her head and searched his face, but the shadows hid most of his expression. Not his eyes, though. His eyes shone in the darkness, and in them was a flame so bright and strong it took her breath away. "What're you sayin'?"

"Henri..."

He looked to her, then, and she wasn't sure which of them was the one to lean closer. Perhaps they both did.

"D'you know what you feel?"

"Yeah, Gene," she replied, her voice a little unsteady, "I know my heart."

"But I don't."

Henri could hardly bear it. Her heart felt so inexplicably full of him, him, him, everything she could ever want. And here he was, talking like that, like he never had before. She took in a deep breath; letting it out, she calmed her spinning head a little more with a slow blink. He dropped his arm from around her waist, stepping away, and it was quite possibly the worst thing, for him to be so close and then falter at her silence.

"Hey..." She bit her lower lip. "D'you wanna know? D'you wanna know my heart, Gene?"

He was silent for so long she wondered if he'd fallen asleep. Then a shadow appeared, walking out of the streetlamp's spotlight, reaching for her hands. Even in the dimness, she could see his smile and the way his gaze shone as if she was treasure before him, reflected in his eyes. She drew in a long, careful breath as his fingers entwined with her own. Her exhale came out in a little puff, scarcely visible in the night, and he squeezed her hands.

"My folks used t' ask how I could be friends with a fella an' not want 'im for my own." She shrugged. "I used t' say you were the best friend a lady could ask for." Henri closed her eyes. "You are, Gene, but I- I want you t' be more'n that. Lots more'n that, to me."

He was quiet for a moment, almost too long, and just as she'd made up her mind to open her eyes and walk away, she felt something brush against her lips and realized it was his own. She was so shy, leaning into that kiss, that it was hardly a kiss at all, and when they pulled back, it was only a second or two before they swooped back in for a real embrace. Her hands cupped the side of his face and his own held her close, one on the small of her back and the other on her shoulder. As they kissed, and kissed, and kissed some more, Henri felt like she might topple over any second, and yet that she could fly all the same.

Gene dipped her there, under the shadow of the Eiffel Tower, and deepened the kiss. She kept herself from falling by her arms around his neck and as he brought her upright again, both of them breathless, she gave a soft laugh.

"I s'pose I'm not the only one feelin' that way."

"Oh, Henri-" He brushed his nose sweetly against her own. "-I'd marry you this minute, if you let me."

"Would you?" she asked, nervous, blushing, delighted.

He nodded, and she smiled.

"Why don't we, then?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gene couldn't eat, couldn't talk, couldn't sleep. His only reprieve came in the hours he passed out from exhaustion in lumpy, frigid foxholes. His friends, already worried about his wellbeing in the terribly taxing Belgium winter, began to whisper among themselves that something was really wrong. Should they get him sent off the line? No, they couldn't bear to lose a medic, and one of the finest ones Easy had, at that. So they stuck close to him, watched over him, and one day, wrapping Babe Heffron's hand just a few dozen feet from No Man's Land, Gene let slip what had been troubling him so terribly as of late:

Henri was missing.

"Who?"

"My- my girl."

"Oh." Babe thought for a moment, then sat up a little straighter. "Oh! The mechanic? The one from Louisiana?"

"Yeah." Gene tugged a little too tight on the makeshift bandage around his companion's hand, noticing only when he winced. "My best friend growin' up."

Babe gave a low whistle. "And then somethin' more, huh?"

"Yeah."

"How long'd ya know?"

"Couple o' years."

"An' when'd ya finally let 'er know?"

"Well..." For the first time in a week, a small smile crept onto Gene's lips. "We eloped in Paris."

Babe gasped and nudged his medic friend's side. "Doc, ya fox! Ya didn't mention she's your wife!"

"I s'pose I didn't," came the reply, a little late, as Gene's smile vanished.

"An' she's missin'," Babe remembered aloud, shaking his head dolefully. "Hell, I'm sorry, Doc."

Gene didn't say it was okay. It wasn't. But he nodded, just once, and he knew Babe understood he appreciated the concern.

Weeks passed. Henri was nowhere to be found. All Gene knew was she'd been serving up the line when her crew disappeared. Rumor had it was they'd crept into the woods after dark to make a much-needed supply drop and ended up behind German lines. None of them reported back, and before long, all were presumed dead. Gene didn't want to believe it. He couldn't. Every day, he reminded himself of what he'd told Henri, his darling, the best thing to ever happen to him, that night under the stars:

"They say when you got true love, you can tell if the other person's hurtin'."

"If they're dyin', even?"

"Sure..." His heart seized up at the thought of her death, leaving him unable to go on, and it was only her hand moving to hold his own that relaxed him. "Yes, Henri," he affirmed at length, "even if they're dyin'."

She was alive out there, somewhere. Gene knew. She had to be. If she wasn't, he'd have felt it, somehow. Right?

Right?

Then they were out of Bastogne, into Foy, out of Foy, and early February lurched past until Gene found himself frozen in the doorway of a convent in Rachamps. Sergeant Lipton patted his shoulder and tried to usher him indoors, but Gene just... couldn't. It was so wrong, to find comfort, finally, without her. He couldn't even bring himself to think her name. It felt both a relief and a betrayal to be here. To think he might be safe for one night. Lipton stood with him as his companions walked past, and when Babe Heffron reappeared from indoors, he too lingered.

Gene thought he might cry.

Was it truly possible she was... gone?

"Hey, Doc?" Babe asked, careful, gentle, and nodded behind him, toward the warm lights of the convent. "There's somebody in there you oughta see."

"Not now, Babe," Gene muttered, his voice rough from days of disuse, and his friend sighed, taking him by the arm.

"Two months apart- ain't that enough to make you wanna see her?"

"What? Who?" He turned, eyes wide, to Babe, who nearly stepped back at the uncharacteristic display of urgency.

"Your wife, who else?"

"Where?"

"Down the hall, to the left-"

Gene took off like a bullet, sprinting around the corner so fast he ran into the side of the doorframe. The thud of the impact made the familiar figure standing there look over her shoulder, and before she'd even turned fully, Gene had wrapped her in his arms.

"Henri, Henri, Henri," he wept, kissing the top of her head as she leaned into his chest, beginning to cry. She was back in his arms where she belonged. He kept thinking, she's okay, she's alright, she's here, she's alive, and the tears just kept flowing down his pallor-stricken cheeks. Drawing him into a kiss, she clung to him like he was her only lifeline, and he was sure his grip on her own jacket was just as tight and needing. They stood there, swaying and kissing and crying, for what could have been five minutes or an hour, Gene could hardly tell amid the emotion he finally let overflow at the knowledge that she was finally, utterly his again.

"I love you."

"Oh, Gene." She leaned into him, crying harder. "I love you, too."

"I'm never lettin' you outta my sight again."

Tired and hoarse but sweet and overjoyed all the same:

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

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nadacwriter · 4 years

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OCtober (Belated) Day 8: Festival

Part of @oc-growth-and-development‘s OCtober!

I had a hard time writing this one hopefully the next one goes smoothly!

This is a DELSTRAN piece.

Words: 1,245

“...As Alsteid granted us love through her potions and vibrance, we grant her offerings of the same at this ceremony, and to her we offer thanks, for without her, love would not exist, nor would companionship of any kind; it is through her alchemy we learned all things of relations, from swetest love to most bitter hatred.”

Natalie always thought the ceremony of Alsteid was the best part of the alsteid festival.

It was so cool! They took all of these really bright fabics, soaked them in an ignition potion, and lit it on fire. Then it was put into a bowl and everyone passed it around and put the ashes on their wrist, it was great! It was Witchery, and she wasn't a witch, but all of her family had to participate, and if it involved burning stuff and putting ashes on your skin, hey, she wasn't gonna complain.

If only she didn't have to deal with the festival part, though.

Natalie got up from her seat with the rest of her family, as they all moved to the fairgrounds. The festival was often held in the middle of summer, and it was typically during July. So it was always way too hot to justify being outside anyways. But when you're surrounded by people, it just makes the sensation worse.

“Mam,” Natalie whispered to her mother in Welsh, to keep the others from knowing what she was asking, “I really want to leave, can I go? I bet I could get a ride-” “Nat, you can't just leave in the middle of the festival.” She said, “Your mother's got the stall to look after.”

“but I'm not at the stall!”

“You help get the stall set up!” “But that doesn't mean i'm AT the stall. Can you imagine the chaos if I made potions!?”

“Natalie, I love you, but we have to stay...I did bring you a book, though.”

“...Thanks, Mam.”

Natalie hated the festival for two reasons: It was too loud, and she didn't get to leave. It was a fair, basically, with rides and all sorts of stalls and vendors set up. But it was all just too much for her to handle. There's a reason her room was kept dark with spells, and she kept herself occupied by lighting candles.

But she also couldn't leave; her mother, Krysta, MOM, ran a stall at the fair every year. And though Norah was the one who helped her at the stall, that still meant she, Eve, Charice, and marion were stuck at the festival with nothing to do. Charice, of course, with her youthful exuberance, mostly rode on the rides and played the games at the festival. And Eve had plenty of friends she could hang out with. But Natalie had no such thing…

Usually these days were the spent, by Natalie, anyways, at a cooling fountain, reading some sort of book and listening to some sort of music. The black ensemble, the grim book, the loud music, the obvius earphones, they would usually tell anyone that came near her she did NOT want to talk.

Natalie walked over to the fountain at the first chance she got, telling her mom that she would have her phone on her and meet them all there when they were ready to get going. When Charice tried to get her to stay, mom pulled her aside,

“Alsteid's always a bit rough on Natalie, sweetheart. Doesn't mean she doesn't love you, just means she's gotta have space.”

“Okay, mom...”

And then, Natalie would spend the rest of the day at the fountain, far away from everyone, where she could just read or keep to herself.

At least, thats what's supposed to happen.

“What's wrong with your face?”

It's a question Natalie was used to getting at school, but not on the day of a festival to a love goddess. If she had been asked while she was listening to a song, she would have ignored the question, but the person asking had somehow chosen a lull in the music.

Natalie pulled one of her earphones out and didn't even look up from her book.”

“It means I kill people for asking personal questions,” She replied, “Get lost.” “You look like a warlock.”

“Yeah, and I'll become one if you don't learn to listen.” She still hadn't looked up. “Scram.”

“What are you doing at a love festival?”

THAT did it. Natalie slammed her book shut and looked on. The girl seemed about her age, which was odd, considering how ready she was to insult her.

“Look, kid. You wanna see just how evil I can get? Keep talking. If not/ Do yourself and everyone else around her a favor and piss off.”

Natalie had a bit of a temper, and it was not helped by the fact that she really didn't want to be here.

The girl simply smirked. She looked familiar to Natalie. Like she was someone's kid or something.

“What class are you, Warlock?”

“What?” “Dueling class,” the blond grinned, her eyes slitting, “I see you got a pretty ornate wand.”

“Class 4. You want a fight?”

That shut the blond up. For someone Natalie's age, class 4 was a big deal.

“Well, um...”

“Then shut the hell up.”

Natalie stormed off, grumbling to herself as she walked through the crowds of the festival. She walked right past the Gibson family stall, her family's, and walked all the way to the other end of the fairground, where the ceremony had taken place. It was hotter than by the fountain, but it was quieter. A fair trade, natalie thought.

She sat down on one of the stone benches and sighed. She really, REALLY hated the Alsteid festival. If people were gonna be assholes like that, why come to a LOVE festival anyway? She got back to reading…

And heard a familiar voice.

“I thought mam said you were gonna be at the fountain.”

Charice. Damn! How could Natalie not have spotted Charice?

“I moved.”

“Why?” Asked Charice, walking down the large steps of the theater and sitting next to Natalie, her red shirt and khaki shorts contrasting in style to Nat's getup.

“A girl was being mean to me.”

Charice looked over, “Did you zap her?”

“Nope. Can't unless I need to. I could get in trouble.”

“Maybe she needed to be zapped.” “Maybe.”

Natalie sighed softly.

“Why do you hate Alsteid so much?” Asked Charice, looking up at her.

“I mean...i don't hate Alsteid, she's a perfectly fine goddess all things considered. My patron nearly plunged the world into darkness, though, so the bar's kinda low.” Natalie said.

“I just, y'know, don't like it. There's too much going on, it's all really overwhelming, and people are mean to me, and it's too hot to be comfortable, and I just wish I was somewhere else.”

“Why are people mean to you?” Asked Charice, her arms crossed, “You're nice, and you're funny, and-” “I'm half Wraith, Charice.' She interrupted. “And Half wraiths don't do too well at festivals.”

Natalie sighed and put her hand under her chin. She was surprised when she felt two small arms hugging around her midsection.

“I think you're nice.”

The Alsteid festival celebrated love in many forms. Romantic, platonic, familial, devotional…

It wasn't often that Natalie participated in it. And if she ever did, it was usually on accident.

But right now? Natalie felt loved. In the nicest way she could.

#Delstran #OCtober

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