title : lady i swear by all flowers, don't cry
summary: it starts on a thursday and it ends on a thursday. CatAndré
disclaimer: victorious ain't mine, and the poem and title are all e e cummings.
-
my blood approves,
and kisses are a better fate
than wisdom
lady i swear by all flowers. Don't cry
—the best gesture of my brain is less than
your eyelids' flutter which says
it's a thursday.
*;*
he likes her in pink, for some reason; it makes her look like a hidden treasure buried beneath mountains of useless rubble. when he tells her this, she only laughs and tells him, i like you in any colour.
(he swings her high into the air, and her hair looks like a sunset across the sky.)
*;*
he writes her songs, music that seems to flow from his heart into his fingertips. she watches him sometimes, dark eyes rapt while sucking a bright candy and dreaming her dandelion dreams.
when cat sings his songs andré kisses her, and she tastes like dew and honey and beautiful imperfection.
*;*
I love you, you know that? He asks her sleeping form. I love you more than I've loved anyone.
Her eyelids flutter and she mumbles something unintelligible; he kisses her warm fingertips and dreams with her.
*;*
They go to the zoo once, and Cat especially likes the giraffes.
"They're so cute, André," she laughs delightedly, strings of her bright pink cotton candy still stuck in her hair. "I just want to snuggle them all!"
André chuckles and grabs her sticky hand. "C'mon, then, I know a place where we can feed them."
The way she looks at him, like he's her prince charming, is totally worth the extra twenty-five bucks.
*;*
promise me, andré, she says to him once upon a spring. say you'll never leave.
he promises her, grasps her white hands in his.
i'm not going anywhere, little red.
she smiles but doesn't really look at him; andré hums a melody that reminds him of her and young love.
people always leave, she whispers, but andré doesn't hear.
*;*
and so people do leave, even people in love. andré learns this the hard way.
*;*
one thursday a story appears in the news.
High School Girl Killed in Apparent Hit-and-Run
(they're not yet sure of who this girl is, but they do mention she has bloodred hair.)
*;*
he doesn't cry after the funeral even though jade and tori and beck and robbie and maybe even rex do. the day is misty and cold, on the verge of rain (the kind of days he loved but she hated) but andré doesn't really feel it.
*;*
jade looks (old), clutching his arm and looking lost.
You-you loved her the most, she says, blue eyes cobwebby with tears. Why won't you cry?
andré says nothing but instead points at the sky.
Dandelion seeds, he says. I think she's watching them, wherever she is.
jade tells him to stop the spiritual shit, but andré's already humming hallelujah in his head.
*;*
an year passes. still, they keep on, keep on—
*;*
he visits her grave for the first time. it's cold, hollow, ugly, and just everything she's not, and andré sinks to his knees.
this is for you, he tells her voice like the wind. he lays down pages and pages of wrinkled and tearstained music, black notes dancing merrily from bar to bar. this is for you.
(he stands and leaves, her song drifting away in the wind with the dandelion seeds.)
*;*
he does look back, once.
*;*
fin
a/n: man, I ship these two hard right now. OTP, srsly. I know this is short but please bear with me. I'm really starting to get into the victorious fandom, and sorry if you think the story's a little confusing. :P
reviews are chicken soup for the soul.