Just One Thing Makes Me Forget (Azalea -- T/W: Sexual Situation)

Jacques Clement would like to think of himself of a man who had never asked very much of anyone in his life. He'd never subjected his friends to jump through hoops to satay in his social circle, he'd never asked his Maman and Papa for endless luxuries, he'd never sought out women to give him things that they weren't willing to do, and he'd never asked his sister for anything more than she could give. It had been the one time he'd asked Elenore for even the smallest of favours, and the out right rebuttal of his request that had hurt.

It had hurt more for the witch to translate what was supposed to be a private conversation for the rest of the room to understand.

No, it had been outright humiliating of her to do that.

It had been the reason Jacques had not moved to stop his sister from leaving the restaurant.

It had been why he'd sat quietly after she'd left without a second glance.

Jacques had believed the outburst at the Palace was long behind the witch. The two years since Elenore had left should have been enough time for her to calm down, and come to the understanding that she was missing something by not being at home. Jacques could even forgive the witch what she'd said and done to Mimosa all those years ago, he'd been sure she had not meant any of it.

And yet here they were.

Azalea's hand had been the anchoring point. Perhaps that was why he had not moved from the table after Elenore. The gentle reminder that he was not a man who could just be baited like that.... should not be baited like that, had kept him from following Elenore and Kevin from the restaurant. But even as Jacques' fingers had entwined with Azalea's, he'd not really known what he was doing in that moment as his head roved round and round trying to make sense of everything Elenore had said to him. Each time he came up short, until the gentle tugging on his hand alerted him to the movement of the witch beside him. How long they'd sat in stunned silence, Jacques would not be able to say, but Azalea did not press him to speak as she drew him away and out to the streets of New York.

The limousine ride was in silence, the Clement heir still thinking over everything that had been said.

What he was going to do.

Auto-pilot took over as Azalea navigated them back in to the hotel, Jacques' features schooled in to one of thought until they stood side by side in the elevator. As the witch moved to press their floor, Jacques thumb hit the rooftop terrace button instead.

Alcohol, the man needed alcohol.

The elevator moved swiftly to the roof, letting them out to the rooftop bar. The heat of the summer had not ebbed from the skyline, and the bar was half full at this hour. Jacques moved carefully to the bar with Azalea's hand still in his own.

"Two tequila shots, please." Jacques ordered from the barman, and they followed. Jacques took his own and downed it barely a moment after it had been poured, wincing slightly at the burn of the liquid in his throat that he would never say he was accustomed to. Should Azalea follow suit, the man would motion for their glasses to be refilled, and once more, would down his own drink quickly before putting the glass in place.

"I hate tequila." The Frenchman would confess at that point, letting out a soft laugh that showed he hadn't really thought this through at all. The barman looked confused as he waited patiently for the next information. "What would you like to drink?" Jacques asked, and whatever the witch's request was, Jacques would ask for two of them. Taking the drinks, the man would steer Azalea to one of the tables by the edge of the roof for them to look over if they so wished, or else just to be away from everyone else.

"I'm sorry you had to witness that." The apology came with the man drinking from his glass and then nursing it as he contemplated the liquid inside. "I thought..."

What had he thought..?

The man brought up a hand and rubbed his face, the fatigue of the day starting to show on his face. Or was it just the day? He'd been working tirelessly to try to hold the family together for an age now, and it had come to a peak.

"I honestly thought that two years would have been enough to bring Elenore around." Jacques admitted softly, his gaze half lifting up to Azalea to see her reaction and ascertain whether she would have thought the same.

Bringing his hand back down to the table, the man's hand would cover Azalea's, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Thank you, for trying. For being here. I really do appreciate it." The smile on the man's lips -- the small, sad smile -- would show how much he meant it, as well.

From there, Jacques went back to the quiet contemplation of his drink. He didn't know what to say, at all, because he still couldn't comprehend how Elenore believed she was not loved back at the Palace. A Palace that had not seen true happiness since she'd left two summers ago.

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~ Clement Heir ~ 24 ~ Athletic ~ 5'11" ~ French Accent ~

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The ambiance at the rooftop bar was not what Azalea would have expected of The Plaza. But it was early yet. Barely after sunset was not when most people began to drink seriously. As a result, the place was sparsely crowded and no work was needed to get the barkeep's attention. The two tequila shots called for arrived promptly and were swallowed just as promptly by the french heir before he finally spoke.

"I hate tequila."

"It's not too bad," Azalea murmured through reddened lips from her first shot. To demonstrate, she picked up her second and lifted it to her lips before tipping her head back, letting her shining brown hair hang low to her waist. The witch swallowed the alcohol with minimal fuss. Had she been more aware, she would have wondered why it didn't sting as much as it was supposed to going down. Azalea had no memories of drinking tequila but her body clearly did. It welcomed the heat despite the slight stinging in her throat.

"What would you like to drink?"

Instead of answering him, the brunette turned to their bartender. "Whiskey, single malt, your strongest please."

"Make that two," Jacques added and their order appeared almost immediately. The witch had to admit the service at these places lived up to the hype. Taking both their drinks, the Frenchman lead her to a table near the edge, but if he picked it for the view, he didn't look it over even once, instead lost in his own thoughts where he sat, their drinks on the table between them.

"I'm sorry you had to witness that."

The witch shook her head softly, letting him know without words that his apology was not needed. What were friends for if not to support you through family drama? And Azalea was learning day by day that the Clements were just like any other family.

And that Jacques Clement was a dear, dear friend.

"Thank you, for trying. For being here. I really do appreciate it."

"If you truly did, please don't thank me," she witch insisted. They had an odd relationship and if she started thanking him for all he had done for her and Mimosa, there wouldn't be time for anything else. "I'm just sorry I couldn't do more." Realistically, Azalea had known the dinner wouldn't result in everyone hugging and singing around a campfire. But she had hoped that it would take the siblings one step closer to each other. Unfortunately, their evening had managed to achieve just the opposite. The friction between Elenore Clement and her family that had gone hitherto unspoken was now laid out for at least two outsiders to see.

"Cheers to my failure," the young woman attempted a laugh, picking up her tumbler and taking a sip. Once again, the alcohol settled comfortably inside her, not prompting a negative reaction. Josh drank whiskey often but always switched to wine out of courtesy when she joined him. The witch had always assumed it was because he thought her too delicate for hard liquor.

Which she was clearly not.

"What are you going to tell your parents?" she asked gently, her chocolate brown eyes soft as she gazed into his. To hear him tell it, he had informed his parents the reason for his journey was to convince Elenore to come home. Now, that was clearly not happening.

"Maybe if you reached out to her on your own..? She may have felt attacked with a stranger there," Azalea tried, conveniently leaving out that the younger Clement too had come with her own date to the restaurant.

All she wanted to do was help, because for the first time since she'd known him, Jacques Clement looked lost and helpless.

And that would just not do.

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Just One Thing Makes Me Forget (Azalea -- T/W: Sexual Situation) Rsz_gr10

Just One Thing Makes Me Forget (Azalea -- T/W: Sexual Situation) Rsz_az10

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The insistence that he didn't need to apologise fell upon deaf ears. Jacques had hoped, with a buffer of a stranger, his sister's anger would not shine through quite so freely as it had today, but the young man had been wrong, and nobody should have been subjected to such things, least of all people who did not know his sister, and that she truly wasn't the kind of person that had been on display today.

But the Frenchman just quietly contemplated his drink as Azalea spoke, trying to work out what he could do.

"What are you going to tell your parents?"

The dark orbs of Jacques' lifted to meet Azalea's eyes in that moment. What was he going to tell his parents? The worry would have been quite obvious in that moment as the younger of the duo looked back down at his drink again. "I... don't know." He admitted softly to the amber liquid. The amber liquid that was not being at all helpful in giving any answers. Without another thought, the man brought the tumbler up to his lips and drained the contents of it. The whiskey was much more tolerable than the tequila, Jacques admitted to himself as he placed the glass carefully back on the table.

"I told them I would bring Elenore home for Christmas, but I miscalculated so drastically. I thought..." Jacques shook his head, showing that the fact he'd dared to think his sister's opinion had changed had been a really unwise decision to say the least. "Maman is going to be heartbroken to know that Elenore is not coming home for Christmas again. It doesn't get easier for her, even though we've had two Christmases without Elenore, it doesn't make it easier. And Papa... he won't say it, but he misses her just as fiercely as Maman does. Christmas ends up like we're walking on egg shells around one another, and even though Mimosa and I are there trying to fill the gap, we're not Elenore."

A waiter passed by and collected Jacques' glass. The small nod from the Frenchman was all the instruction that was needed for another drink to be brought to the table.

"Maybe if you reached out to her on your own..? She may have felt stacked with a stranger there,"

"I asked you to come because I knew my company wouldn't be wanted. I'd hoped you'd play the buffer between the two of us and... stop Elenore from making a scene." The words showed that Jacques had thought it through a little, and it had seemed like the better way around the situation, but it had backfired. "Maybe it's the boy she's with? He's feeding her nonsense about us, and poisoning her away from the Palace... Our team haven't found any connections to the man that would suggest he's dangerous, but I don't..."

Jacques paused as his drink returned once again.

"I don't understand why she's so against coming home." Jacques finalised, the look of a man quite lost in the situation evident upon his features. The glass came to Jacques' lip and he sipped lightly at the amber liquid this time, trying not to down the alcohol that he really wanted to.

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~ Clement Heir ~ 24 ~ Athletic ~ 5'11" ~ French Accent ~

Thanks to .V0ldiemort @ TDA for my signature!

Ignoring her own tumbler for a minute, Azalea found herself listening intently to the young man opposite. The way in which he spoke of his parents suffering alone would have been enough to break her heart but the brunette had learned long ago to hear what wasn't being said. And Jacques clearly felt that Elenore's rejection of coming home was somehow his fault.

The American witch wanted to reassure him somehow, but she knew it would only ring hollow in his current mood. The alcohol, along with the shock of the evening, was steadily dragging the Frenchman into a dark place within himself and despite having few memories of it, Azalea was almost certain she as well acquainted with that place.

His question about whether it being Kevin at fault gave her pause though, making her pick up her tumbler and take a thoughtful sip. The redhead they had just met was a convenient scapegoat, and perhaps Jacques was right. But perhaps...

"Why did Elenore leave France in the first place?" the witch asked curiously, dark brown ey's seeking out his slightly bloodshot ones as the alcohol worked its own brand of magic. "I mean, I understand it was to study but there are very good music schools close to home too? Why American?" Perhaps young Miss Clement had been involved with this boy for longer than her family had knowledge of. And he was the reason she had left the palace in he first place.

Should Jacques choose to explain further, she would listen, not interrupting him or asking any questions until she was finished. By the time his explanation and his second glass of whiskey was done, the witch shook her head softly with a sigh.

"I really don't understand how someone wouldn't want to go back to a family like yours," she admitted, reaching for her glass again. Taking a sip as his third arrived, she ingested some liquid courage before her next confession. "I was... one of those abandoned children, left on a park bench like an empty soda can. No one wanted me." Here, the Potion Mistress tried or a wry smile that came out as a wince instead. The witch took another gulp of whiskey before continuing.

"All my young life I kept looking for somewhere to belong. Not that Dad and Clara didn't do a fantastic job, they did. But if I had someone who wanted me home as much as Elenore's parents want her home, I'd be there in a heartbeat."

The comparison wasn't just from the child's perspective. As a mother, Azalea knew what it felt like to long for your child on Christmas, on holidays and birthdays and any and every days. She knew she was fortunate enough to see Mimosa more often than she had any right to but if she was honest with herself, it would never be enough. It could never be enough until Mimosa understood and accepted the older witch for who she was.

In that moment, Azalea felt a kind of kinship with the Lady Clement she would never otherwise feel towards the painfully beautiful woman who graced the palace.

"What about your grandmother? Elenore seems to be fond of her. Can't she help convince Elenore to return?" By this time, her own glass was empty and taken away, soon to be replaced by an identical one. Her mind however was still not hazy from the alcohol, something that would have registered had the situation been different. As it was, she simply picked it up and took another sip to keep the Frenchman company while he drank.

He needed the alcohol and she needed him to know he wasn't alone.

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"Why did Elenore leave France in the first place?"

The hesitation would have been clear from a mile away from the Clement heir as his eyes shifted awkwardly from his drink to Azalea's features. The worry of finally admitting the truth would be all but clear in his eyes as he finally looked back down in to his glass, his shoulders hunching over in defeat. "It wasn't the boy," Jacques replied softly, because that was what they were trying to decipher, wasn't it. The blame for Elenore's actions was not the young man who'd been present at dinner that day. Neither was it here in America, not really.

But there, Jacques struggled to continue on, instead lifting the glass up to his lips and removing the contents in one go.

No sooner had the glass been emptied for courage, a new one had been put in it's place, taking up the refuge between the young man's fingers as he thought about his answer. One that wouldn't make his sister look like a bad person, because Jacques refused, even now, to believe his sister was.

"I failed her." Jacques admitted finally, but the admission was aimed to his glass, not the witch opposite him. It wouldn't matter, though, Azalea would have heard. Even then, though, the young man had clearly not finished with his explanation, and so he slowly continued on. "When Mimosa came to the Palace ten years ago, our Maman asked only one thing of us. Don't let Mimosa ever feel sad."

Again, Jacques' explanation came to a brief pause. The usually eloquent man was clearly struggling with everything he was about to say, was about to admit.

Because it was the first time he'd been given leave to do so.

"We all focused on Mimosa so much, we forgot to do the same for Elenore." The sentence was spoken so softly it played on the hope it would be taken from his lips, and an errant wind would sweep it away from being. Jacques would likely not be so lucky with that, though, as once again he lifted his glass to his lips and took another large drink.

"She left because I didn't see that she needed my attention just as much as Mimosa did all these years." Jacques admitted, the shimmering of unshed tears clear as he dared to look up at Azalea for the first time he'd started his explanation. Hoping to see some kind of judgement in her features that would reinforce every horrible thought that had presented itself to him up until this moment. The Clement heir would never blame his parents for this, he simply couldn't do that. It had fallen on his shoulders, and he'd failed in his duty to keep the house together. "I didn't try hard enough to make her stay, and now she believes... she believes she's not loved so deeply by all of us..."

Jacques shook his head at that much, the pain of saying that aloud making him shrink back in on himself once more.

The quiet brought forth Azalea's own story of abandonment, and how she would not have passed on the opportunity to be at home with a family who wanted her as badly as the Clements wished for Elenore's return. Whether the story was supposed to make him feel better, Jacques wasn't really sure. Elenore would have returned had she been anything like Azalea, but that was the problem, Elenore was not Azalea.

Elenore was... stubborn.

"What about your grandmother? Elenore seems to be fond of her. Can't she help convince Elenore to return?"

"There's nothing for me at the Palace. Grandmere has always been right in that respect, I guess. That's why she encourages me to stay here, and to do what makes me happy, because she loves me. She's always loved me." Jacques' voice did not waiver as he recounted Elenore's words back. They had replayed again and again on the drive back from the restaurant to their hotel. He didn't have to voice the fact anything he tried to ask of his Grandmere would likely become detrimental to his cause.

Elenore had already told them that much herself.

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~ Clement Heir ~ 24 ~ Athletic ~ 5'11" ~ French Accent ~

Thanks to .V0ldiemort @ TDA for my signature!

The witch stayed silent even as Jacques recounted the tale of why Elenore had left. Stymieing her own stream of questions that his explanation prompted, she instead gave him time to speak, to let his feelings out. With the help of alcohol and the comfort of no judgement from her, the Clement heir was in a much better position to admit his perceived failures to her, failures Azalea did not believe for a second were his own.

What she wanted to ask was why Mimosa had been brought to the palace? When she had first regained enough consciousness to understand, Kit had cited medical issues with the child when she was younger and France being able to give her the best treatment. But that still and't made sense. Dad and Clara could have just moved to Paris for a few years while Mimosa went through her surgeries. Why all this ward shenanigans? And that too with the most powerful family in the world. Azalea had never questioned it before simply because Mimosa seemed happy where she was, and the Clements had never shown any sign that they didn't treat her daughter as their own.

But to know that they may have sacrificed their relationship with their own child for the sake of hers, there had to be a reason behind that. Now though, was not the right time. With Jacques looking as miserable as he was, her own curiosity could wait. Instead, the witch gently reached out a hand and grasped his on the table, running a soothing thumb down his palm to assure him no one faulted him for the turn of events.

"Would it not... have been easier to send Mimosa back?" the witch asked tentatively. Despite how attached everyone was at the palace to the little Slytherin, she had a home, and a grandfather and a Clara. And with time, perhaps even a mother and father in Azalea and Jake. Elenore didn't appear to have anyone outside the palace. If Jacques had known, the logical step would have been to...

"Nor to cut her out completely but just spend less time at the palace?" Even as she said it though, she knew how Mimosa would have reacted to that. Hard as it was for everyone state side to admit, the teen witch really did think of Versailles as her home.

No, she thought of the Clements as her home.

And Jacques Clement as her anchor to the world.

In the background, their glasses were refreshed again though neither remembered emptying them. It didn't matter. What did was Azalea's thumb still drawing gentle circles on the wizard's hand.

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"Would it not... have been easier to send Mimosa back?"

The question had Jacques' eyes darting back up to Azalea's. The shake of his head had been firm enough to show that the thought of sending Mimosa 'back' was one that they had never, ever considered. Ever. Nor would it ever be one that they could possibly consider.

"Nor to cut her out completely but just spend less time at the palace?"

"The Palace is as much her home as it is mine." Jacques replied softly to that question. Softly, but not without the clarity that there was no moving on this point. Azalea wouldn't be able to comprehend why he was so adamant on that point, though, nobody else in the world knew, really. His father's minor lapse in judgement could not, and would not, become common knowledge, even to those involved, because it had been kept all these years, it did not need to come out now.

Even if that would have made the whole explanation process easier.

"Mimosa is family." Jacques finalised as Azalea's fingers drew gentle circles in to the back of his hand, trying to soothe him even as his body refused to comply. "Nothing will ever change that."

Because it couldn't.

Mimosa was his niece, just as much as Azalea was his sister. He would look out for both of them fiercely, and nothing in the world would make him change his mind on that stand point. It just left him adrift with his younger sister. Who would not believe him no matter how many times he told her of the love their family harboured for them.

"What am I going to do?" Jacques asked softly of the witch opposite him as her fingers continued to draw circles on the back of his hand. His free hand lifted the glass to his lips anew, and as the man swallowed he let out a soft sigh. The alcohol was starting to take it's effect on the young man, the art of concentrating coming with that extra requirement of needing to try to do so. The wizard should have known better than to keep drinking so quickly, and yet here he was.

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~ Clement Heir ~ 24 ~ Athletic ~ 5'11" ~ French Accent ~

Thanks to .V0ldiemort @ TDA for my signature!

"What am I going to do?"

Azalea desperately wished she knew the answer to his question. If she had a book or scroll with intrusions on how to deal with this, the witch would have passed it along to him without hesitation. Sadly that was not the case an the situation was as complicated and confusing to her as it was to him. Jacques had made it abundantly clear that Mimosa was a Clement and not even at the cost of losing Elenore would he ever let Mimosa go. A part of her warmed at his words, probably the his sentiments for Mimosa and the whiskey combined.

And all she wanted was to help.

"Can... Kiranjeet be persuaded to lend a hand..?" she began tentatively, her thum stopping its gentle strokes in favor of simply maintaining the skin to skin contact. The Frenchman looked confused for a moment, alcohol clearly making his reactions slower whilst hers remain mostly unaffected. The pleasant buzz building within her was nowhere near the verge of haziness.

"You said she doesn't agree with how you keep your sister safe. So well... wouldn't she like to provide a better way? Reach out, be Elenore's friend, keep tabs on her like how we do in 2027, through social media stalking?" The witch let out a soft laugh, hoping to lighten his mood but Jacques was well beyond being humored.

"And if nothing else... Maybe she could hang around your parents a little, try to, I don't know, get them comfortable around her. The distraction might prove.... distracting."

Truth be told, Azalea had never asked how serious he was with the Malaysian Seeker, but if the tabloids were to be trusted, they had been dating for well over a year now. And she doubted he would allow such public exposure of the relatonship if they weren't at least a little serious. At this stage, his problems should have become hers by now, and his parents happiness her duty of sorts. Azalea herself felt she failed in her own miserably, at keeping Lady Murray happy but she always tried because Lady Eleanor was Josh's mother and Ethan's grandmother.

As alone and dejected as the French heir looked in that moment, Azalea merely wanted to remind him that h was not. he had a girlfriend he could share his pain with, could allow in for a solution and if nothing else, could integrate into his family for his parents happiness.

"Your family is amazing, every one of them. I can't imagine Kiranjeet not wanting to be around them more." Her chair moved closer to his, the witch trying to be heard over the rooftop bar now getting crowded. They had been sat drinking for the better part of an hour and the space was now crowded enough that she had to lean in closer to the man to be heard clearly. Her chocolate hair tumbling over her shoulders as she leaned closer, her thumb back to drawing comfortable circles across his skin.

"I'm sure she would understand and want to help."

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The offer of Kiranjeet's help was one that left the Clement heir trying to understand how the Malaysian witch could possibly help. His confusion must have shown in that moment as his mind tried to keep up with the information he was being given, and falling short. Azalea pushed on with her explanation as she moved a little closer to be heard.

The idea of Kiranjeet reaching out to Elenore was one that... didn't sound like it would work. Not through fault of his girlfriend on any part, but because Elenore was not one to be bullied in to situations she didn't want. The evening's dinner had proved that much... and Kiranjeet... Jacques was not sure the witch would agree to stalk his sister through social media, as Azalea so casually put it. She'd been quite clear on her thoughts of stalking someone, even if it was for Elenore's own protection.

It was why the man had not joined in the soft laugh that left his companion's lips in the moment as he tried to picture Kiranjeet helping.

"And if nothing else... Maybe she could hang around your parents a little, try to, I don't know, get them comfortable around her. The distraction might prove.... distracting."

That sentence made the Frenchman laugh, though. Just a short, light laugh, that showed how truly stuck he was as he brought the glass to his lips and downed its contents for his own sanity. The sound would have shown emptiness in that moment as Jacques put his glass down and turned to Azalea once more as she tried to insist his family was good and that she couldn't see why Kiranjeet couldn't be introduced to them.

His hand that had just replaced his glass moved to hold on to Azalea's hand that was linked with his other hand, gently enveloping her slender fingers between his own. For his own comfort in that moment because each word the older witch spoke proved only to remind him how many people he was failing in his life.

"I've not told anyone this before," Jacques admitted to the witch who was sitting closer to him now as he looked across at Azalea and found himself a little closer than expected. "Except to Kiranjeet." He added, though he wasn't even sure why that was something he needed to tell Azalea. "But, I love her. Too much."

The words held for a moment as Jacques let that weigh between the two of them. It needed it's own moment before he continued.

"I can't trust her." The statement was simple enough, and yet it was there. "I don't mean trust as in... not sleeping with other people, or... that she lies to me, or anything like that. She's perfect, absolutely, undeniably perfect. But I can't trust her with my family. She doesn't understand my family, and I don't want her to."

Except that was a lie, that was all Jacques wanted.

But he couldn't have it.

"I can't marry her, so I can't entrust her with my life like that. For her own good, it's better that she doesn't ever meet my family." Jacques finalised, before looking down to the refilled drink on the table of his own. How they did that without ever really interrupting, the Frenchman would never know.

And though he knew Azalea was trying to help, Jacques couldn't help but feel more isolated now than he had a few hours ago as he looked down at the amber liquid.

"We should head back to our rooms, it's getting late." The Frenchman insisted as he moved his hand from atop Azalea's and back to his glass. Its contents was gone in seconds and Jacques looked back across at his companion to see if she was ready. Once Azalea's glass was empty, they would stand from their table and head towards the elevator once more, this time returning to their own fall.

All the time, though, Jacques' hand stayed in Azalea's, her thumb still drawing those soft circles in his skin. The slight deviation in his normally straight walk would hopefully go unnoticed as they moved down the hall to their room.

The only words spoken were the couple of murmured thank yous and sorrys from Jacques.

Because he was sorry, to everyone, for everything.

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She should have known the news would not be good when Jacques encased her slender hand in both of his. As the Frenchman confessed the depths of his feelings for his girlfriend, Azalea tried not to shudder at the word. She had gotten very good at it over the past few years, probably because she finally felt those feelings unequivocally for her child, and Ethan, even if she couldn't say the words out loud. She was even certain she felt them for Ivan and Adrienne, not that they would ever know.

Next came the heartbreaking explanation for why his deep fondness for Kiranjeet was a problem.

"I can't trust her."

Never having imagined the young Auror to be as a particularly suspicious man, Azalea nonetheless waited until he explained... and once again all she wanted was to gather the lost boy in her arms until he felt better. It wasn't' that he couldn't trust Kiranjeet, he feared both for her and for his family. Once again, the Clement heir was torn between two worlds he wanted to equally belong to, with no compromise on either side.

It wasn't fair, not for someone as kind and good as Jacques, to be forced to choose between his girlfriend and his family. Because as inevitable as he made his relationship sound, he would choose. And by the sound of his tone, he already had. As much as he cared for the Malaysian witch, Jacques Clement had already chosen his family over her.

It made her wonder for a moment if Josh deserved far more credit than she had ever thought of bestowing on him. His family was small but Lady Murray had never made it a secret what she thought of Azalea. Yet Josh had not relented even once. Never had he told Azalea to appease his mother, the witch had simply done it of her own accord, to keep the peace and the relatonship between Ethan and his grandmother intact.

The pressure to choose families over partners appeared intense, and Josh had chose a path not many did. For her.

In that moment, the witch missed her boyfriend greatly, longing to be back in Wales and into his waiting arms.

"We should head back to our rooms, it's getting late."

"Sure,' the brunette replied softly, getting up with him and reaching out almost immediately to steady him as he wavered on his feet. "Here, hang on to me," she suggested, stepping to his side and pulling his hand over her shoulder so he could lean on her. Her own hand still remained in his, both drawing circles and softly guiding him through the crowded bar. Once they had entered the elevate, Jacques finally straightened himself against one of the walls, now holding her hand much more casually as they careened down to their tower suites.

"You know, its all going to work out," she whispered as they exited the elevator, taking a right to the wing that housed only their two suites. "Don't ask me how, I don't know. But I know it will." they couple walked to his room first, Azalea more worried about seeing him safely to bed than herself. Despite her own considerable consumption, the witch found herself remarkably aware of the situation.

"Key card,' she prompted gently once they were at his door, Jacques staring at it as if he didn't know what to do. When the man didn't respond, she said "Okay hold on, I'll find it." Carefully, the witch reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out what felt like a wallet. Ignoring the myriad of cards and a picture of his family and Kiranjeet, she plucked out the electronic key and swiped it across the handle.

The door opened with a soft click and Jacques still didn't move. And Azalea realized what it was keeping him glued to to the spot.

It was the fear of loneliness, of what would happen once she saw him in and left. A small comforting smile on her lips, the witch looked up at him confidently. Intertwining her fingers through his, she said "Don't worry, I'm here."

And slowly lead him into the room.

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Come Plot With Me <3

» Saving the Only Thing That Matters to Azalea (Closed)
» Back Again (Humphrey - Abuse, life or death situation) Future!
» Tu Hai Meri Azalea (Azalea)
» Haylen Makes Stuff
» Practice Makes Perfect (Open to one)