ne cale pas. av & belle.

"Can I be honest?"

It's a filler question, redundant. Of course she can be honest around Avriel. Belle's all but visited his house every day for the better part of two months, appointing herself keeper of the home because Lord knows he's not going to - bless his heart. Well, no, it's not that he wouldn't. Belle thinks that Av would if he could. It's just that he can't. He's never had to tell her that, even as a man of few words. Belle speaks that language, one of many they share. She simply took one look at him and understood that he needed someone to take care of him and all of the other mundane things because... because.

No words needed. She swept and tended to the garden, mopped down Scout's muddy footprints, made sure he didn't eat the chickens out back. Ordered groceries, making sure Eden's favourite snacks were in each weekly delivery. Opened mail, picked up the phone and told Gloria that No, Avriel still wasn't home, try again tomorrow even when he absolutely was, standing across from her in the hall. And in return he gave her a place to exist and a sense of purpose that didn't make her skin crawl and a sense of calm.

Calm - how strange, to think the peripheral of a Victor's life anything close to peaceful. But to Belle it was. Compared to how she'd grown up, tiptoeing and whispering and shaking, full of aftershocks. And mucking out chicken stalls sure as hell beat digging up graves in the dead of night.

She turns from the window looking out to the back garden, chickens pecking happily at the feed she'd spread across the grass that morning. How long ago it felt since she stood on the other side of that glass, gazing in to this home through the very same window she looked out of. How she had envied this family, a girl and her two brothers, happy as they could be. Some days she felt as though no time had passed at all.

"I know-- at least, I think I know, that Billie's coming back. Soon. And-" remnants of her childhood pull forth, tripping over her words. Belle struggles to look Avriel in the eye, busying herself with reshuffling the coats on the stand hooks and putting stray mugs into the sink. Arrête de caler, she scolds herself silently. Stop stalling.

"- and is it terrible that I don't want her to? Come back, I mean."

They were happy here. Fucked up little family that they were. Avriel and Eden and Storm and Duke and Scout and Belle, filling up the place where Billie had left. That had hurt her too, best friend - maybe more - disappearing without a trace, left to study in Six without warning. But it had near destroyed Avriel, thank god for Eden, but still.

Call her selfish. Call her bitter. But it was the truth - and it hurt to say it, deep down. Buried deep, six feet under - Belle's gravedigging days were over.

Or so she had thought.