You looked at the shouting crowd below, and then at him, standing at the edge of Notre Dame’s tower without a haycart to cushion his fall. Down everybody noticed him already since he stood there for soo long not being able to decide whether he should take his life or not.
“Arno?” You tried to get his attention gently. The mission wasn’t a secret anymore, every eye was on him. You could even catch a glimpse of templars down there. They were more than delighted to witness this event, which made your blood boil.
“Arno, please come here to me. You’re going to fall.” You pleaded, trying to stop your best friend’s suicide attempt.
“Yes, I’m going to fall (y/n).” Answered Arno, his voice was shaky and broken. Really broken, your heart ached for him.
“There is no reason for you to do this.”
“I have plenty of reasons.” Finally, the man turned to you with glossy eyes. “Elise is dead, I’m not an assassin anymore. I was betrayed by the people close to me. Let the revolution go on without me…”
“No.” The thought of losing your best friend frightened you. “I can help you, Arno. I will help you to get through this. I just need you to come here to me, back to safety.”
“I’m going to jump.” Arno looked at the streets below him, crowded with people.
“You don’t have to…”
“But I will!” He shouted sobbing. “You can’t help me, you can’t take away this pain I feel!”
“But I can show you how to live with it.”
“No.” Arno stepped forward, you had to act quickly. There was no time to think. Grabbing his robes you pulled him back roughly. But he didn’t give up. Arno thrashed around, trying to escape your hold. He was desperate to end his life.
“Calm down okay? Just calm down…” You whispered into his ear, while feeling his body ease, and start to tremble. Arno fell to the ground, bowing his head down, hiding his tears.
“It’s alright now, I’m going to get you out of here.” You kneeled beside him, embracing his shaking form gently. He buried his face into the crook of your neck. Arno hated being broken before you, and you knew that well. Only in his hardest times, he let you see his real sadness or pain. In this case both. Other than that he was always charming, funny, even a bit flirty sometimes, cracking bad jokes just to annoy the hell out of you when he was bored. But it seemed that the Arno you used to know died with Elise.
“Come!” You stood up, pulling him with you. “A priest is waiting at the door down there to escort us to our carriage.” Arno nodded pulling his hood even more over his features, ashamed by his tears.
“Can you climb down?” Showing the small leap between the tower and the door to Arno you looked at him concerned.
“Yes.” His voice was blank, empty.
“Just be careful, and don’t do…”
“I’m not going to jump (y/n). You made more than sure of that.
"Alright go ahead, I want to see you.” Quickly following him you watched his every step, only easing when both of you reached the door, where the priest impatiently waited.
“May I escort you out of the cathedral?” He looked at Arno strangely.
“Oui, merci.” The three of you took the steps down, thanking everything to the priest again downstairs. The carriage was near, but you still had to go through the crowd.
“Heads down and try to blend.” You ordered Arno. “The carriage is not too far.”
Arno would tell you that he doesn’t like it when others at his or below his rank give him orders, but he had nothing to say, after all, he wasn’t the part of the creed anymore. The male assassin silently obeyed, in the meantime you scanned the crows with the help of your eagle vision, trying to identify templars.
Before Arno decided to jump there was a riot, so quite a few people gathered. Knowing that the council was already displeased enough you got to the carriage very fast.
“To the Café Theatre.” You told the driver, giving him some money, that he took with a half-smile. He got waí more than he would’ve asked for. You took the seat next to Arno who was already sitting inside, waiting for you to pay. The male assassin’s eyes were tired and full of thoughts.
“Your next mission is also about me?” He asked with a raspy voice.
“Yes.” You admitted. “I clearly told the council that I know you better than any of our brothers, therefore if somebody has to be next to you I’ll be it.”
“Why do they even care if I kill myself or not?”
The horses came to a halt, stopping the carriage.
“I didn’t ask, but I deeply care about you, you have to believe that. Come on.”
The Theatre was filled with sweet smells, laughs, and guests. With very loud ones actually, singing revolutionary songs happily.
Arno looked at a kissing couple, longing.
“I shall take you upstairs.” Holding his hand you basically dragged him after yourself into his room. “What about you have a bath while I make two cups of warm tea?”
Arno just nodded, lightly touching the letters from Elise, scattered around his table, with his fingertips, like he couldn’t decide which one to read or should he even read any of them.
“Can you do the bathing part yourself?” You asked awkwardly.
“Yes (y/n), I’m not yet crippled.”
The harsh remark took you aback a bit, he probably just wanted to be alone, a little time by himself might do some good.
“Alright then."Placing your hand on the doorknob you decided to leave the room. "I’ll be back with that tea. Please don’t do anything that you might regret later.”
He didn’t answer, just slowly headed to the bathroom, like nothing happened before, but his hollow eyes were out of focus. Looked like he wanted to disappear, far from Paris, far from France.
Realizing that he wouldn’t speak to you, with a worried sigh, you left the room. After making the tea you hurried back, feeling a deep sense of fear about what state you’ll find him in.
But he was alright, as alright he could be in the moment. Sitting at the edge of his bed he glanced at you, while you placed down two cups at the bedside table.
“You should leave.” He stated blankly, eyes fixated on the tea. It took a moment for you to realize what he just said.
“I’m not going to leave you.”
“I wasn’t asking.”
“What you told me is nonsense, I’m not…”
“Just leave already!” Arno shouted, tears brimming his eyes. He was clearly unwell, but what could you do? Nothing. As a highly skilled male assassin, he could throw you out by his two bare hands at any moment.
“If that’s what you wish for.” Slightly bowing your head you went trough the open door. The council must be impatient by now, you had to report what happened.
After two weeks you got no news from or about Arno. The council didn’t know anything either, nor the other assassins. Checking on him would do no harm you decided, as you headed to the Café Theatre. A waitress came to your side at the moment you arrived.
“He is not well. ” She whispered glancing around at the guests. “He forbid me to send somebody for you, bud he needs help. We worry about him greatly.”
“Why he didn’t let you ask for me?”
“He said that he doesn’t need anybody’s pity. But he can’t handle his emotions, so I fear he’ll attempt suicide again.”
“I see what I can do.” Running upstairs you saw that the tiny home was in chaos, broken furniture, torn clothes. Even tiny droplets of blood splattered around the floor.
“Arno?” Your voice was full of fear as you searched for the assassin.
“Leave!” He shouted from the bedroom.
“Look, I came to help, and I know…” That’s when you saw him, sitting against the wall, in dirty, bloody clothes, his untied hair around his pale, sad face. His bloodshot eyes met yours.
“I want you to leave.”
Only after the first wave of shock, you could answer.
“Absolutely no way!” Kneeling beside him you discovered cuts all along his arm. Some of them were fresh, some were almost healed, there were deep ones too. “You cut yourself?!”
Arno’s only reaction was his pained expression.
“Let me heal you….” You pleaded. “Please…”
He gave you a barely visible nod.
“Can you stand?”
The male assassin didn’t know what to say, he might be able to get on his feet but he wasn’t sure.
“No.”
You hauled him up and helped him sit on his bed then grabbing a seemingly clean cloth you pressed it on his cuts.
“Hold this there tightly, I’ll grab some water to clean your wounds.” Then as fast as you came you left the room.
Arno was actually relieved that you were with him. These two weeks were hell for him. He wanted to be alone but he also desired the company, somebody to hold him and tell him everything will be alright. Letting you help might make him weak in his own eyes but he couldn’t live in this state anymore.
You stepped into the room with a bowl of water and some clean fabric.
“You don’t have to do this.” He muttered quietly.
“I’m your friend Arno.” Watering the cloth you started to clean his cuts. Arno winched slightly, but he could manage his pain. “And because of that, I’ll do everything to make you feel better.”
“I don’t deserve your care (y/n)…”
“Yes, you do.”
“The Creed won’t take me back anyway.”
“I think they’ll take you back, you are a valuable assassin, with great talent and experience. You just have to get back on your feet.”
He buried his face into his hands trying to hide the fact that he was on the verge of crying.
“I’m a mess (y/n). I don’t think I can ever be the same again.”
“Youll never be the same.” You ran your fingers through his messy hair, undoing the knots in it.
“Elises death will change you forever. But that doesn’t mean you can never be happy anymore. Take your time, and the pain will ease.”
“I can’t do it alone.” He leaned on you, burying his head into the crook of your neck. Your smell calmed him, it felt like home, fresh clothes, warm bread, but he could also notice the marks of the revolution, gun powder, medicine, and blood. All so familiar to him, Elise had the same aura, but she was less gentle. She didn’t need to be, not with him.
“I’ll be by your side.”
“You promise?”
“I can even move here. The Café is big enough for us.”
“Then stay.”
“I will.”
Weeks passed with the day being hard at first then slowly easing into peaceful, more happier ones. You saw Arno cry in your embrace, rage with boiling anger or just sit depressed by the window looking out to a Paris without Elise. He slowly started coping with her death, turning back to his duties as an assassin. For you, he seemed happier on the outside, but in the inside fear tortured his soul. He found himself discovering a new kind of love… for you. Elise was his first partner so his feelings for you seemed different. Guilt washed over him every time he looked at you. What would Elise say? He still loved her in a way but he had to let her go. She would want him to be happy. Right? Also, your kind of work made him nervous. You as an assassin could get hurt or die any day in this bloody revolution. Elise didn’t get engaged in fights until she became a grandmaster. What if he can’t protect you? He would surely end his life.
On the other hand, you started to like Arno not knowing that he felt the same. You gave no signs of your affection, after all, he was grieving. And this made him more insecure, you might reject him, he thought.
After days he grew quite stressed over his feelings. You noticed that.
His cheeks slightly reddened when you said something nice to him, he would fiddle with his fingers while talking to you and he became rather clumsy in your presence making a fool of himself on occasion like he concentrated on something else rather than his actual task. Until you decided you had enough.
One sunny afternoon you sat down by his desk where he worked himself through some letters. Assassin business mostly.
“Arno?”
“Yes (y/n)?” He neatly put away the paper he was reading, looking up to you.
“I’m concerned about your behavior. You acted… odd in these days. Is everything alright?” You asked watching closely his reaction. He instantly blushed like a lovesick schoolboy. Unbeknown to you he was indeed in love.
“I feel perfect if that’s what you want to know.”
“In this case I’m relieved. You started to get better…”
“There is actually one thing I wanted to talk about with you.” He admitted nervously.
“Go on, we can talk about whatever you want.” You smiled reassuringly.
“Do you think I can find new love?”
“Yes, that’s totally possible.”
“What would Elise say?”
Oh, so that was the problem.
“She would be alright with it.”
“You sure?”
“Totally.”
“Then I think the problem is with me.”
“There is nothing wrong with you.” You stated, maybe a bit too fast.
“You see there’s this (man/woman), (he/she) is very nice but I’m afraid to confess my feelings for (him/her).
"What are you afraid of?”
“Losing (him/her) I guess…” There again he fiddled with his fingers nervously.
“Then you should speak to (him/her). Shoving away your feelings because of this… is not a life.”
“You might be true.”
“Who is the lucky one anyway?” Glancing at him you resisted to show any emotions. “If I may ask…”
Arno loudly gulped, forgetting to say something even.“
"Arno?”
“Well…”
“You don’t have to tell.”
“(he/she) is sitting in front of me.” He blurted out…
It took you a couple of seconds just to realize what he said.
“What?”
“It’s you (y/n).”
“Me?”
“Forget it, I was foolish to…” But he couldn’t finish as you quickly got up and pressed a light kiss into his mouth. He stared at you dumbfolded before a small smile tugged his lips upwards.
“Je t'aime Arno.”
“Je t'aime (y/n).”
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