"Maman, Papa, I have a dire question in need of an answer." I burst into the drawing room, where my mother and father are relaxing with a cup of tea and a book by the fireplace, which they both abandon upon hearing my voice and the importance of the situation conveyed by it.

If I have the chance to stay with the person I love forever, why should I not be excited and carry a fortified tone? I have a solution to a question that was bugging me before I found it, and this is where I can test if it will work or not. I'm overzealous.

"Ask away," my mother permits, a bit surprised by my sudden enthusiasm yet composed nevertheless.

"Do you remember that boy that I brought to the ball a few weeks ago? The one with the dark brown hair, almost black?"

I hate to ask, because I know exactly how they will react, but it's essential to inquire, because he's the center of my main question, the one that is about to come.

Disgust passes over my mother's face, forever the one to be the most judgemental of people she encounters and decides she doesn't like. "Oh yes."

"I was wondering if we could take him back to France with us when we leave Saint Petersburg."

Disgust turns to conniption and astonishment. "Why on earth would you want to do that? Have you seen him?"

"He's my friend, Maman."

She shakes her head, dismissing my silly notions as she would call them. "Olivier, I really don't think you should be making friends like him."

"And why is that?"

I really should be used to my mother's disapproval for all people that don't conform exactly to her standards, but Alexei is more important than all of them. I will fight for him. I will question my mother with every move she makes. I can't let Alexei slip through my fingers just because she doesn't like him -- and for a superficial reason, too.

"He doesn't even speak French."

That never stopped Alexei before. Even when Julie was insulting him, that was when we were dancing, and he wouldn't have heard her even if she were speaking Russian. And what about my parents? They're living in Russia yet don't speak Russian. Although they aren't chatting with the Russian-speaking commoners and only with the French-speaking Russian nobles, they are still in a country whose primary language they don't speak. It's not like I'm completely shocked -- I deal with their hypocrisy often.

"Then you don't have to listen to him if you don't want to. And I speak Russian, so it doesn't matter if he doesn't know even one word in French."

"I always knew your learning Russian was a bad idea. Now you're irreparably infatuated with this Russian street boy."

"He's more sophisticated than lots of people I've met at any of the balls we attend."

I'm not even lying just to make Alexei seem more likeable to my mother. I have learned so much about various topics from him, stretching from topics only native Russians would know, to topics that a scholar might not even think of. I am confident in saying that I have been mentally enriched by his knowledge.

Picking up her book again, my mother continues reading after making her last snide comment, this time about me. "I highly doubt that. Your judgment has never been very beneficial to any outcome."

Concluding that my mother is going to do nothing but slander Alexei and even her own son, I turn to the other person whose advice I need to collect. "What' your opinion, Papa?"

Having continued reading after noticing that he wasn't involved in first part of the conversation, he answers me from a mouth blocked from behind his book. "I agree with your mother on all of this."

I show signs of giving up on my plan -- straining a heavy sigh from my lungs, clenching my jaw, etc. -- but it appears that my father is not finished.

He shrugs as if dropping the previous subject entirely to instead focus on a new one that isn't so emotionally tolling. "But none of that matters anyway, as you will be returning to France before the summer ends. Quite soon, actually."

I already know where this is going, and I know that it's turning south. I predicted that this would happen sooner or later, but I didn't predict that it would affect me so much before. This is where my entire plan crumbles. This is where my happiness becomes snuffed out by a destiny that I have no say in. This is where I leave Alexei.

"Father..."

"Son, I am sure that you are well aware of my military prowess. A large sum of my reputation comes from it, and I am respected because of it. Now, since you are of age, I figured it's time for you to follow in my footsteps and join the French army."

It seems like the only thing my father cares about is his reputation and the military that created it. He doesn't pay mind to Lourdes and me and his wife. All he does is chat with his army friends at the ball and through letters. The military devours his life. I don't want that to happen to me when there's so much more in life to explore. I resist.

"Why don't I have a choice in this?"

My father puts his book back on the couch forcefully. Now he is absorbed with the conversation. "You'd better watch what you say, Olivier. It almost sounds as if you're disrespecting the foundations of this family."

"Just because I don't want to be your legacy doesn't mean that I can't do something equally as important for the family."

"If you don't consider the military to be the top priority, you're not even a part of the family."

"Maybe I don't want to be."

My mother gasps as if I delivered the most offensive thing in the world to her, which I'm not remorseful for, but my father isn't so easily taken after years of seeing every horror in the world from that beloved military that he adores. He continues to argue instead. He's always been stone cold like this.

"Well you can't show any signs of it. As far as anyone knows, you're my polite and respectful son who will listen to his father's commands. You're joining the military, whether you like it or not."

The polite and respectful son is all I've ever been. Now that I've met Alexei, I think of myself as more than that. He has uncovered my complexities that he claims he's always seen and makes me see them, appreciate them. I don't want to go back to the polite and respectful son. That person was a facade. It only existed a few inches away from my body but appeared real enough to be believable. That is not who I am.

"This is so unfair!" I sound like a child, but if that's what it takes to remind my father that I'm too young to be shipped off to die, so be it.

"Don't you dare say that," my father warns, almost like a threat with the way he poses his finger in the air, rigid. "Do you want to be seen as a coward among our acquaintances?"

I know that would be his biggest fear, but after having an epiphany thanks to Alexei, I do not think of it. He has rendered me stronger than ever. I am not scared of what my reputation holds for me in the eyes of others.

"Frankly, I don't care about your acquaintances."

"You evidently don't care about the essential topics as you should. We're not going to bicker any longer. You're already stuck in this position." He has delivered the verdict, and as he said, I am already stuck.

I let a shadow envelop me. "When am I leaving?" I murmur, eyes to the floor, silently accepting my defeat.

"Tomorrow."

Nodding, I exit to pack my bags and have a little privacy while I weep.

~~~~~

The morning rises above the horizon to signal the day of my departure, the day that I was dreading all night. I received no sleep. I replaced rest with worry, and it's taken a visible toll on me, but there's nothing I can do. Whatever. The hollows under my eyes can stay if they please.

I abandoned certain items that I have no need of in the military, items that only tie me to the same family that tied me to the military. In some ways it feels kind of refreshing to let go of a few burdens, a few reminders of who my family wants me to be. I take my new and improved bag downstairs, where I say my goodbyes to people pretending to be melancholy when they are the ones who are forcing me to say goodbye. I suppose, however, that it is a bit unreasonable to lump Lourdes into the group with my parents. Her tears are legitimate, and I know that I will miss her for real.

In fact, it's terrible to see her this much pain when she's done nothing. She didn't make this choice, and neither did I. She is as innocent as me yet got landed with a sorrowful fate as a result of that choice. She is just as affected by our parents' decision as I am.

"Olivier, please don't go," she wails, her body flung towards mine with her hands locked on my shoulders and weighing me down so that I'll stay. She reflects how I truly feel inside but am not authorized to feel publicly or in front of my parents, the unmediated core of innocence that I am forced to relinquish.

"It's out of my hands."

It hurts me to say this to her, to say it in such a monotone as if it doesn't affect me emotionally and as if I can just detach myself from it, which I can't. It's the truth, but it's an arduous truth that I wish I could spare my sister from.

"Oh how Maman and Papa make you suffer."

At least she understands. She's always understood. Not as much as Alexei, but she's done far more than my parents ever have. How can I abandon Lourdes here with the people she comprehends were the ones who shipped me away? How can I bear the cognizance that she will be alone for as long as I'm away?

"It's nothing new, Lourdes. It's what they've always wanted me to do, that's all. It would've happened at some point naturally, and I guess that point is now."

I say that Alexei has taught me to be a new person, yet I am so complacent with my circumstances, which is exactly what Alexei says he can't stand. Maybe I can reassure myself by claiming that this facade is only to protect Lourdes. Maybe that's the verity.

"Don't say that, Olivier. You have your entire life ahead of you. Don't let it be ripped away by people who only want to use you as a pawn in their sick games."

Fearing that she's onto something important, something that I always include in my description of war, something that my parents can't hear without blaming either me or Lourdes, I wrap up our conversation rather abruptly. "I'm sorry, Lourdes. I need to go."

Gathering my affairs, I ready myself to leave roughly. I drop two kisses to my sister's cheek as usual, turn my back to avoid having to see her pain any longer, and try my best not to cry as I walk through the door for the last time in a while. My next path leads to Alexei.

~~~~~

A/N: lmaooooooooo y'all say goodbye 2 happiness

comment on ur fave parts so we can scream 2gether

~Dakotass