Title: The Four Seasons of Richard Strasse
Author:
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cuddlymicch Brief introduction: And finally, when the snow in the garden began to emerge early flowers, was the day she was more room for doubt.
Number Chapters Four
Genre: Romantic, sad, melancholic, introspective
Rating: Orange
Warnings : / /
Complete: No
third Waltz - Frühling ~ Printemps
And finally, when the snow began to emerge in the garden, the first flowers, was the day she was more room for doubt.
"I love you.
me that you said so in March, when Constantine was persuaded to leave the library. Through the open window of the garden came a delicate scent of jasmine.
remember being flushed and that I threw the chair to hide her face in her hands. "You're sick! "I cried then, crouching under the dim light that illuminated the immense hall. "I mean really! "Instead
were fine, and you were not never been more serious in your life. "Marguerite, I really love you."
And I did not want to believe.
sobbing, I ran my hands through his hair, covering his eyes with the palms, without saying a word, without moving. In my head I
parents. Isabel I, the golden-haired painter who had taught me German in my head Albert and Herbert, both of which were made in four to make me feel loved in their family. Gregor was in my head, my head Mathias, Renéee her child. And most of all in my head Vincent, who with his voice squeaky asked me a hug at the train station.
My life with all of them had ruined you, with your arrogance that you had put between me and my friends with the absurd claim to save me.
Since I started living in the mansion, everything around me began to spin, I could change without lifting a finger to prevent it.
And I hated, I hated, I hated even myself. I think I reached a point of addressing the word I hate anyone, except Costantin.
Constantine was my son, or at least, under the illusion that I was. It was my only certainty, the only safe beach on which to rely when the sea is rough. Because in reality I was afraid, I was terrified, I struggled to fall asleep every night and I felt my body trembling in panic. But then I heard your voice and that of others lurking behind the door with ears cocked, ready to catch even my minimal hiccups. We had become like a big family where you were the father and I his mother.
So my heart melted like caramel to me that Mary was preparing on Friday morning to wish me a good day at the Neues Museum. I raised my arms to you, gird up your back covered by dark jacket that you wore to work. Your body size was huge, a comparison of my small frail as that of a young girl.
"You know, I think I love you too." I'll
whispered, rising on the tips of my shoes lilac. I think I have rarely felt as happy in that moment, when you got up your blue eyes on my face and kissed me for the first time. I felt that my feelings, long suppressed inside me, were exploding suddenly takes on a new color of the shadow of the library and burps Richard Strasse. For a moment I believed even become unable to breathe because of the emotion that I clogged the veins with the unexpected joy that caught me unexpectedly.
I loved you and you loved me, and at that time nothing was more perfect than the simple equation that required systematic months to be resolved.
For the first time we made love, close to each other under the covers of our bedroom. The sheets were soaked with the scent of immaculate bouquet of camellias that Mary had put on display on the bedside table and smelled the aroma of coffee in your skin, smooth and perfect as that of a child.
The next day we went for a walk together, walking along the Havel river holding hands.
"When all will want to move, "You said suddenly, stopping to admire the profile of the buildings in the distance. "Marguerite, when it is summer I will return to Paris."
