la vie en rose

Des yeux qui font baisser les miens,

Une rire qui se perd sur sa bouche,

Voila le portrait sans retouche,

De l’homme auquel j’appartiens,

“The teacup ride, you say? C’est concerning, Baptiste, how pale you looked after,” Étude looks up at her charge, brows furrowed with worry. 

Next to her sits Baptiste, the first person she saw when she first stepped foot into the reality of this world, who held his arms out at her, moonlight basking his hair and illuminating its golden hue, looking up at her as if she was heaven sent. 

Today, though, Baptiste looks more tired, more fatigued than usual. Perhaps, Étude hazards a guess, that it was because of the Carnavel de Cholet they went to. Yes, she thinks, it must definitely be that. Baptiste was not one for crowds, and Étude fears she may have pushed him a little beyond his boundaries today. 

The evening crowd was certainly the worst. They stayed for the lights show, since that was the attraction that got Étude’s attention in the first place, and Étude has to admit… It was magnifique. Splendid, dazzling, everything like in the posters and yet so much more in real life. 

There were floating animals, sparkles and glitter that lit up the night sky in so many shapes, so many things that Étude only heard about in the television shows that Luc would occasionally play, and the magazines that stocked the shelves of the bakeries she visited. It was as magical as her very own essence, and Étude was so happy that Baptiste had allowed them to come. 

Baptiste, on the other hand, seemed less than excited. He grimaced at every overexcited child that crashed into them, twitched an eye whenever Étude suggested one of the more exhilarating rides, and sighed whenever they were met with a rather long queue. Étude makes mental note that carnivals are perhaps not Baptiste’s cup of tea, maybe even before his physical health was impacted. 

Quand il me prend dans ses bras
Qu'il me parle tout bas
Je vois la vie en rose.

Il me dit des mots d'amour
Des mots de tous les jours
Et ça me fait quelque chose.

It is late now, as they take the train back to their home town. Cholet is relatively close to them, and so the trip will not be too arduous, and Étude is thankful that they managed to find seats before. 

They’re sitting next to each other now, under the dim lights of the train, side by side, with Baptiste in the corner and Étude on the outer seat, offering protection to him from any stranger that may decide to squeeze too close into their space. He initially wanted to sit on the exterior, however Étude shook her head and insisted, wanting Baptiste to have some well deserved rest for their journey home. 

The train is rather packed, with many festival goers also with the same idea of going home, and so the train cabin is filled with excitable chatter and a warm stuffiness of so many people. 

Étude sits with her back straight and legs crossed in front of her, holding her giant stuffed cat that Baptiste had won for her. 

Il est entré dans mon cœur
Une part de bonheur
Dont je connais la cause

C'est lui pour moi, moi pour lui dans la vie
Il me l'a dit, l'a juré, pour la vie
Et dès que je l’aperçois.

Alors je sens en moi
Mon cœur qui bat

“Mmm, perhaps we should name him Luc, do you think?” Étude suggests cheerfully, trying to keep their spirits up as she presents the cat in front of Baptiste. 

Baptiste, sitting next to her, hunched and with his arms crossed, drags his eyes to stare at the cat. Étude thinks that if he was not so tired, perhaps he would be staring daggers at their new friend. The bag of souvenirs they purchased sits between his legs, shielded from any prospective thieves. 

“I don’t think Luc would appreciate having something like that named after him,” he replies, instead looking over to Étude and raising an eyebrow. Étude puffs at him.

“It would be to compensate, since he was too busy to come with us today!” she explains, as Baptiste lets out a huff of laughter. 

“Trust me, Luc would be more than happy that you simply thought of extending the invitation to him,” he assures. Étude leans back against the chair, eyeing the cat again.

“Hmmm,” she hums in thought, “would you have any better suggestions, then?” 

“Laid, moche¹, grognon, bougon²,” he lists off a stream of words, to which Étude lets out a fake gasp of shock. 

“Language, Baptiste! He is only a child,” she says, trying to sound offended, however there is a light lilt in her voice that suggests otherwise. 

“Oh, so it is a boy?” Baptiste quirks his mouth up into a smile, to which Étude giggles. 

“Yes, I think that is most fitting,” she nods in agreement. 

“Well, either way, I am afraid I cannot be of much help,” Baptiste shrugs, his arms still crossed. “I can’t say I had much talent in naming things before.”

“I did want to name him Baptiste,” Étude teases, nudging a shoulder against his. “But I feel that would make things in the house a little confusing.” Baptiste rolls his eyes. 

“You are not allowed to name that toy after me,” he says, though Étude can tell he’s also resisting a smile. 

“Why not? To name him after the hero that freed him from the prison that was that games booth!” Étude grins, and Baptiste is chuckling now. 

“Étude, I did not know you could be so morbid, thinking of those toys hanging up there as a prison,” he smiles, and Étude lets out a sniff. 

“Well, of course, they all look so sad, suspended up there, waiting for someone to rescue them!” she plays into the act, happy to see that it is amusing Baptiste. 

“Either way, I do not think I can help you in naming him,” he says, bumping their shoulders together again. “But no matter what, you are not naming him after me.” 

“Spoilsport,” Étude giggles, and Baptiste grins back at her. 

Des nuits d'amour à plus finir
Un grand bonheur, qui prend sa place
Des ennuis des chagrins s'effacent
Heureux, heureux, à en mourir.

They lapse into a silence now, as Étude focuses her attention on trying to come up with an ideal name for their new companion. She mutters a few prospective ones under her breath, rejecting each of them with a shake of her head. 

Ah, it is so difficult to come up with a name! They do not come out of nowhere, and yet actively trying to think of one feels so unnatural to her. 

She is only brought out of her thought when she feels a light weight against her shoulder, which she assumes to be Baptiste trying to get her attention. Étude turns her head over, only to be met with a view of golden locks, as she sees Baptiste resting his head against her shoulder.

Étude can immediately feel her heart jumping to her throat, as she barely suppresses the urge to jump. 

“Umm, Baptiste?” she asks, wondering if this is one of his strange jokes. If it is a joke, Étude can’t say she enjoys it, as she feels her cheeks hot against her face. 

When there is no response, Étude gulps a little, trying to settle her breath and calm her heart that she feels thundering against her chest. 

Slowly, she leans over, trying to make the least amount of movement possible, in order to get a better look at his face. 

What she sees does not ease the heat that she feels, but now there comes a fluttering sensation in her chest too. 

Baptiste really must have given it his all during that carnival, and be thoroughly exhausted now, as he appears sound asleep, resting against her shoulder. His arms are still crossed, and he looks as proper as ever, and yet he looks so calm too. His eyes are closed, where Étude can see his thick blonde lashes, and his face seems to have lost that tightness he usually wears when he’s out. 

His breaths are soft and light, as Étude can feel a small puff of air every now and then against her shoulder. It is calming, to see him like this, not so haunted by his past or his own thoughts, and Étude ignores the butterflies that she feels in her chest, instead trying to settle down, unable to keep stop herself from smiling. Perhaps one day, she will get to see what this looks like, even when he is awake. 

Quand il me prend dans ses bras
Qu'il me parle tout bas
Je vois la vie en rose.

Il me dit des mots d'amour
Des mots de tous les jours
Et ça m'fait quelque chose.

Happy to bask in the glow of warmth that she feels in her own heart, and from the warmth that pours from Baptiste, Étude begins to softly hum a small melody, quiet enough for only the both of them to hear amidst the chattering of the crowded train, relaxing herself into him. 

Today was a day of many firsts, and Étude cannot be happier that it was spent with her charge. She thinks that the dilemma of naming their cat could rest for now, as she feels her own eyes beginning to close, lulled by the comfort of another being pressed against her. 

“Sleep well, mon loup³,” she murmurs, before leaning into Baptiste. 

Il est entré dans mon cœur
Une part de bonheur
Dont je connais la cause
C'est toi pour moi, moi pour toi dans la vie.

Tu me l'as dit, m'as juré pour la vie
Et, dès que je t’aperçois
Alors je sens en moi
Mon cœur qui bat.