Chapter Text
24th February 2001
That week had been a twirling of imaginations, hopes, daydreaming, and studying.
Richard had more or less managed to be concentrated enough to gain another top grade in the weekly test and to follow his usual study schedule with no hiccups. But it was extremely easy to be taken by surprise by the wonderful knowledge he had since the week before; to catch himself staring at the clock on the wall of the classroom trying to move the hands along faster, to stare outside the windows of the study hall wondering about Chris... How he couldn’t remotely imagine that they were going to meet again... That thought in particular was the sweetest, dragging him into his secret world.
There was also a bit of anxiety, not only for the obvious, but because he needed to come up with convincing lies to justify why he wasn’t going to be part of some of the plans with his classmates; that too had kept him busy. Interestingly enough all of that did in fact make Saturday arrive way faster than he could ever had hope for; and all things considered he had also managed to fake calmness uncannily.
But he didn’t sleep all night, of course; the few hours between Friday and Saturday that he should've devoted to resting were filled with anticipation, anxiety twisting his stomach around in many, painful knots, making him feel nauseous, tossing and turning in bed. But he loved the fact that he could really distinguish between that anxiety and the one he was usually victim of. He had rehearsed and rehearsed in his head that crucial moment all night; all the different ways it could go, the things to say, the reactions Chris could have… That was going to happen the day after, in just a bunch of hours; it was basically there.
That excitement kept him company until it was time to snooze the alarm clock without allowing it to ring and get ready for the day. He got dressed to meet with Lisandra and Angelica for their Saturday morning reviews barely staying up, loudly yawning, feeling his eyes small and burning… But he had chosen each item with care. He had reflected on wearing his beloved Dead Kennedys’ shirt, but at the end the choice fell on his favorite Kiss’ one. He even opened a small pouch with a few accessories he didn’t have yet the courage to wear; all because he felt he had to be at his best... After all, in just a few hours, he was going to see and meet Chris again... The thought kept stealing him shy smiles, and he didn’t do anything to stop it from recurringly greet him. It had been absolutely impossible, after all. So, he carefully chose a chromed bracelet in the shape of a motorbike chain to wear with his outfit; it wasn’t much but, in that moment, it felt like more than enough.
A happy sun was shining bright as the three classmates sat at their usual spot, flooded in light.
“I’m sorry you didn’t sleep well, Richard!” Angelica sat down in her by then designated place.
“Ah, it’s okay. You know that happens sometimes.”
“Were you worried about something?” she asked again, attentively.
“No, at all! I really just couldn’t fall asleep, I don’t know why. Anyway, I think I’ll stay in this afternoon to try and rest a bit.” he lied; that was the well-studied excuse as to not receive any questions on the why he wasn’t going to join them after homework.
“Of course! If you feel like it, we can possibly meet at our usual metro station for dinner.”
“That’s a good idea, thanks, girls.”
“Valterri clearly forgot about us!” joked Lisandra. Again, the group that started the Friday night together ended up separating; the three of them were now an established group, while Valterri seemed to be drifting towards his Scandinavian friends more often.
“He came back at like 3 a.m., he was sleeping like a baby when I left the dorm.”
The two of them opened their books with a chuckle at that remark. “Well, maybe he’ll join later. Let’s get this over with!” Angelica encouraged them.
Homework got him distracted enough, but once at the cafeteria, Richard didn’t eat at all, his stomach never having been so tight before. Just a few hours, just three, small hours... He blamed it on him being very tired, and the girls seemed to have fallen for it, strangely not lingering on it for long with many questions. So, he went back alone to his dorm where he found Valterri working at his desk.
“Hey!” he happily greeted him as he entered their room.
“Hi, Richard!” Valterri didn’t look more rested than him, to be frank.
“Oh, you could’ve come to the study hall, we were reviewing anyway.”
“Ah don’t worry; I’ve just got up and I didn’t feel like coming all the way there.”
Richard placed his backpack on his bed, before sitting and removing his leather jacket. “Oh, I see. Did you party hard?”
Valterri chuckled. “A bit! We went to a black metal concert, and I may have had one too many.”
“Ah, been there! How was it?”
“Meh… You know, with black metal is always a gamble: either you witness the most amazing thing ever or you don’t hear shit. This time it was the latter.”
“Ugh, that honestly sucks!”
“Doesn’t matter, we still had a great time. Oh, do you have any plans with the girls tonight?”
“Uhm, not really; we were thinking of meeting for dinner but nothing more than that.”
“Well, why not!”
“I’ll stay in for some time this afternoon, I didn’t sleep tonight.”
“It shows! No worries, as soon as I finish the homework, I’m going to go grab a bite so you can rest.”
“Oh, thanks. Well, you can stay; I wasn’t meaning that!” He lied. He actually needed him to go away so he could sneak out with the book without raising questions.
“Nah, don’t worry; I’m meeting again this afternoon with the guys anyway.”
Richard excused himself to the bathroom with that, feeling extremely nauseous again. So much anxiety, anticipation, worry, expectation... Time ticking as slow as it could. No amount of mindless chit-chat could distract him from what was going to happen.
After a few deep breaths, he told himself he couldn’t just hide there and forced himself to get out. He went to his bed; propping the pillow behind his back, he took a random book pretending to read it. In reality, he was wishing that Valterri was done soon enough. He had to leave the dorm in more or less an hour and a half if he wanted to go by metro; he didn’t want to risk arriving late. Anxiety rose in him, as he faced the possibility of having to come up with a convincing lie to go out when he just said he wanted to rest. Ordering himself to stay calm and not go in overdrive, he tried to follow what his eyes were looking at, but it was simply impossible.
At 2 p.m. Valterri greeted him and left the dorm room, leaving him finally alone. Richard couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief. So far, everything was going according to plan.
He took “Les Printemps” from under the frame and considered if to wait a half hour more or to start making his way to the library. He considered the options and noticing that he felt like he had live wires inside him, he decided to go by foot. This way, he was hoping he could calm himself down enough. His fears having the best of him, before leaving the room he hid the book inside his leather jacket. So, hoping very hard not to meet his two friends on a stroll in his same path, he made his way to Paris’ XI arrondissement.
He was so scared to bump into them that he walked almost looking completely down to his feet, chin hidden behind the jacket’s collar, as if it could mask his whole face. Yet, with each step he was taking, his stomach hurt a bit more. How much did Chris change? Would he even recognize him? Would they have any chance to talk? Could he at least say “Thank you”? Or would he just stay there, incapable of speaking? These and other questions kept him company as he went on, as did the shy imaginations he had indulged in.
When he finally was close enough to recognize the iconic blue fixtures of the library, there was already a nice group of more or less thirty people waiting outside. All of them had the book in their hand; some were chatting amongst themselves; some were alone or in pairs. Richard took his book from inside the jacket, yelling at himself that he was the only one having to do that; nobody else was ashamed of showing it. Why the fuck should he? With a heavy sigh he ordered himself to be calm once again and that wasn’t the time to overthink his usual unexplainable behaviors.
Just then, a light tremor took hold of his hands, his stomach a pit of pure pain: he was there. It was almost time. His biggest dream on the verge of coming true. He wondered for a second if Chris was already there; he even imagined himself going to the window of the library to check. But fear kept him where he was, almost as if his feet were melted to the asphalt. Just a bit more patience. Just some more time. The door of the library was then opened from the inside; those closer to it started entering. A last, heavy, deep breath, before putting himself in line. For a second he asked himself what was going to happen.
He followed the queue inside the shop; without losing any time or looking anywhere else, he squeezed into the last row of seats, going to take place in the very last chair there was. He wasn’t exactly sure why. He had an irrational and strange fear about having misunderstood everything; that looking up he wasn’t going to see Chris but a complete stranger… So, he had to hype himself up; to convince himself that everything was going to be okay.
When he finally gained the courage to study his surroundings, he almost did find that impression to be true: barely visible amongst the heads of all the attendees sitting in front of him, behind the counter, he saw five people. There were a woman and four men, one of which was sat with his back turned towards the attendees. But his heart started running as fast as it could, right then.
He knew that was him, no doubts about it.
How could he ever forget his hair color, even if it was longer; how could he ever mistake the sweater he was wearing as the same he had on when they said goodbye?
He was immediately emotional, fighting it back with strength, not wanting to drive attention to himself. It was him; it was his sweet, beloved Chris...
He couldn’t wait for him to turn around, to see him better; to recognize every little detail he had so dearly reviewed in his memories, to savor completely that dream coming true.
He studied that back for a while, incapable to move his eyes away; the joyous sensation of his heart beating so happily and with anxious anticipation something he had missed. Just then, he saw the woman had started to speak to him with a gentle expression; they confabulated for a while before she gave him a bottle of water. Perking himself lightly on the chair, he studied those fingers unscrewing the cap, a shiver of recognition going down his spine again.
A quick gulp of it; a heavy breath. He could see how tense he was, and that made him feel sweet tenderness...
Then, she did a gentle nod to the young man that had supervised the attendees taking their place, who was looking at her for some time; with a nod back, he loudly said: “Welcome to all of you to this new presentation. It is an honor for our library to have so many of you here! Today we are extremely happy to finally have brought you an author that many of you have requested…”
He didn’t hear him. He didn’t care.
Well, he did, but he was more preoccupied in waiting for the moment Chris would finally turn around.
When he did, he felt his heart literally exploding; his vision blurred immediately, feeling a tear run down his cheek, quicky trapping it in a sleeve. Nothing could have ever prepared him for the moment of realization that they were literally ten meters away for the first time in three years.
He saw him gently smiling, looking almost incredulously at the crowd gathered there for him; and Richard could only feel so much sweetness he felt overwhelmed. It still was that same, damned smile... The same he had surrender to that far away night...
“…so please help me welcome to “Les Mots à la Bouche” today’s guest: Chris Schneider!” said the young man, motioning towards him with a hand. As the attendees started loudly clapping, he got up from his seat, his cheeks lightly tinted of pink; he did a small bow, putting both his hands in the middle of his chest out of pure, humble gratefulness for that enthusiasm.
Richard had to force himself to clap because he was studying him with deep attention, forgetting almost to breathe as he did. He had grown, leaving behind the younger features he remembered; now he looked effectively more manly, even more attractive. And he was in perfect health, the realization so relieving he had to sigh slowly, a weight lifted off his shoulders. He had noticed that already, but now he was sure of it: he had let his hair grow too, that was now falling around his face in loose curls; that caught him by surprise, he didn’t imagine him to have curly hair… It complimented him so nicely, too… And... Oh, his eyes. Richard discovered he had forgot how absolutely otherworldly they were and their exact color, even if he had done his best to recall it as often as he could.
As easily, he felt himself falling for him again, exactly as the first time. Did I ever stop falling for him, though? He had to ask himself, a tiny smile escaping him.
Just then, Chris sat down again; but he followed him closely, focusing on every little thing he could grasp sitting so far from him…
The presentation then started: first there was a quick introduction to the book. The second Chris spoke, Richard felt again emotional, not only out of recognition for that voice he never forgot, but because he fucking understood him now. It was something so simple and yet so wonderful… A barrier completely gone, as he let himself be surprised by how eloquently and elegantly Chris spoke; how he always knew that, deep down…
The woman next to Chris helped him carry on that segment (his agent? A representative of the publishing company? He didn’t catch that part, too busy in analyzing every inch of him); he again couldn’t focus on what was said. Just listening to him talk was wonderful, understanding him was wonderful. Even if none of what he was saying really sticked.
After that, he read a small extract from the book, that he dimmed as his favorite part: Richard had again to hide behind a hand as to not let the emotion get the best of him, as Chris read about the first time they saw each other. He noticed the sweetness, the tenderness tinted with sadness in his voice; he wondered about it, deluding himself of Chris missing him... Once he finished, he did a small, awkward bow again to thank everyone for the very loud clapping that followed; before moving on to the Q&A part.
For a second, Richard wondered if that could be the moment he was waiting for: to simply ask him a question (which one of the many he had? He didn’t know) and... Let him know that he was there. But he feared of causing a scene; the reaction Chris could have, all those people there making possibly a connection, understanding and... No, he couldn’t do that. He had to wait for the signing session, hoping it would be a little more lowkey. So, he listened, not getting enough of looking at him, of all the emotions that ran through his expression as he spoke...
After a final, big applause, the same young man that introduced the event announced the start of the signing session: the two other men that had stayed behind the counter in the background had now moved forward, allowing the first two rows of attendees to form a line. The others waited patiently in their seats: as the queue moved, they invited a new row to join them and so on.
This way, Richard had the chance to study Chris as each person got to speak to him: unsurprisingly, he was sweet and kind, welcoming each of them with a warm smile, listening intently to what they had to say to him; even blushing, sometimes. His heart fluttered in seeing him so happy and grateful... Chris took each book he was handed with both hands, before prudently placing it on the counter and signing the first page with care. With the same courtesy he then returned it to their owner; a final, big smile on his face. He allowed himself to believe he hadn’t change in those years, and he still was his gentle, marvelous self... So far, it really looked like the hurt he had gone through hadn’t touched him in the slightest... And that stole him another breath of relief.
It was already the last row’s turn: Richard got up, his heart pounding in his chest so heavily he felt it resounding in his neck and ears. Getting in line, he noticed that there were some more people waiting to meet him that hadn’t found a place to sit; they queued behind him. He looked down, suddenly embarrassed; he didn’t know why he felt that way, but... Somehow, he was then conscious about crossing his gaze with Chris; he focused on the cover of the book, commanding himself to breathe and stay calm, as anxiety suffocated his stomach. Each step he took was closer to him; closer to the end of a path... And maybe, the beginning of the next.
February 2001
It was the last signing session for his book, and with that, that chapter of his life was closing.
Waking up that morning, Chris felt some of that past pain wondering through him; a sad mixture of dissatisfaction and quite frankly melancholy in having to say goodbye to his adored piece of soul. Finding himself curled up in a ball, he stretched his limbs with a grunt, muscles aching slightly. He had to do that, having battled with desolate insomnia for a long while, overthinking having the best of him. Then, indulging a moment more between the sheets before waking up completely, he hid his face in the pillow as he held it tight, letting go of a heavy, tired sigh.
That day was the most painful reminder of the fact that he hadn’t achieved what he had hoped for. So far, the burden he had tried to get off his back on New Years’ Eve had clung to him, and right then it felt unbearably oppressive.
Still no idea for a new book, still he was working for Simone, still he didn’t hear from his mum since Christmas day, still he was alone.
What was missing was the strength to do any kind of change. Exactly like before meeting Richard. He felt blocked, without energy or motivation. A part of him told him that he had nothing to look forward to after that day; to that, he peremptorily told himself that wasn’t true at all. No way he was going to be dragged back in hell.
So, he forced himself to sit up, putting those thoughts in a secret box at the back of his mind. He pressured himself to think about the positives: that night Guillaume and the rest of the gang were waiting for him to party that milestone in his career, Mademoiselle Manon taking a break from the stage just for him. He didn’t think there was something to celebrate. But at least the presence of his friends could lift his spirits up a little. Of course, there was meeting his readers for one last time, and from them taking all the strength he didn’t have to start seriously thinking about the new book. Receiving their love and in it relish. He looked at those two perspectives with a tiny joy. With that, he felt brave enough to finally get out of bed.
He ate a quick breakfast before stopping his overthinking by doing some chores around the house: the kitchen needed an in-depth cleanse, so did the floors and the windows. He got busy with that, taking advantage of the day off work, concentrating on his tasks so much he could free his head for a while. He actually loved taking care of his apartment: he wasn’t really obsessed with cleaning, but he had grown accustomed to the impression that an organized home was a reflection of an orderly mind. A way to try and pull himself together.
Once his house was squeaky clean again, it was time to get ready: he considered what to wear, looking at his clothes in the wardrobe with a hand on his chin. He let nostalgia get the best of him, his hands instinctively taking the black sweater where Richard’s last hug was imprinted. He needed that impression to cuddle him that day, while he could talk about the night that changed his life for the last time. Forcing that thought back where it came from with a heavy sigh, he went to take a shower before taking care of his appearance as best as he could.
He left his apartment to reach all the way to the Rocher Éditions headquarters, where Stéphanie was waiting for him to then go together to “Les Mots à la Bouche”. Now that he was outside, reaching for the metro station, he found a bit of happiness in the very nice weather: the rays of sun were attracted by his black coat, warming him up a bit. This way he couldn’t help but feel a little better, a corner of his mouth lightly shooting up because of that soothing sensation. He was then ready to enjoy the positives of that day.
Stéphanie and Chris reached the library a few minutes after midday, entering with polite goodmornings.
“Hi, hello!”, the shop assistant moved from behind the counter to go greet them. “Very nice to meet you, Monsieur Schneider; I’m Alain. Madame Philippe, it’s a pleasure having you again.”
“Nice to meet you too!”
“It’s been some time, dear Alain! How are you?” the two exchanged air kisses.
“I’m fine, thank you; I hope it’s the same for you. So, what do you think about the layout?” The small place was already arranged with some chairs in the free possible space, having had to rearrange the displays to make room for the attendees. “It isn’t much, but it should work!” Alain said, with a huge smile.
“Works perfectly fine for me!” she said, looking around.
“Oh, please; it’s already an honor enough to be here. I thank you so much for the trouble!” said Chris, sincerely touched.
“Oh, it’s only a pleasure! It’s an honor for us too, really; it has been nice to see our customers so enthusiastic about a book. Before I forget, we thought of putting you behind the counter; it’s the largest place anyway. So, the readers can come from here,” he moved a hand towards the left side of the shop, “and exit that way.” and he showed a path void of chairs created towards the windows of the library.
“That’s perfect, Alain; thank you so much.” said Stéphanie, reassuring. “Well, we were thinking to go eat something and then we’ll be back, okay?”
“Of course, I’ll be waiting for you! If I can give you a suggestion, there’s a nice brasserie just next door.”
They gladly took it, inviting him too to join them; at first Alain politely refused but then he let himself be convinced, closing the library behind him with his keys. As it often happened before a signing session, they engaged in small talk and discussions about the LGBT world; he loved that, as he was not only able to hear about others’ opinions but also to put his mind off the increasing nervousness in wait of the big moment.
With filled stomachs, the three of them went back inside, where the two owners of the shop, an elderly gay couple, was preparing a shelf with a few extra copies of the book that Stéphanie brought for those who didn’t yet buy it, and the presentation had been of interest enough to consider its purchase. Chris introduced himself to them barely containing some admiration; they started a happy chit chat, as he sat behind the counter.
Even if he still had a few hours to wait, Chris liked to take his place already, giving his back to the rest of the shop in order to control his nerves, which were already messing up his composure. He wasn’t getting used to it, at all. Both the possibilities of finding an empty shop or a packed one once he turned around were worrisome in their own way; that was his way to postpone the thought as much as he could, letting himself get distracted by the conversation.
With a hand on his left wrist, he shielded the watch form his eyes as to not look at the time ticking by. Forcing himself to listen attentively, he focused on the face of his interlocutor as to not look outside of the windows, even if he could make out the shadows of some attendees already in wait. His stomach twisted. Pretending as if nothing was happening wasn’t his best feature at all, but he kept the act on as long as he could.
“Well, it 2:30! Let’s open the doors, shall we?” suggested one of the two older men, with a gentle smile.
Stéphanie looked at him. “Are you ready?”
“Yes. Let’s do this.” he said, more to himself than to her, gathering his courage.
Alain got up to go unlock the door.
The last signing session. With that, the precious shard of his soul he had birthed with difficulty was going to be just a footnote in a list of books published in 2000; a forgotten receipt in somebody’s pocket, a file he would never delete from his computer. A prayer he put all of himself in that hadn’t been answered.
Like all the others he did in his life, too.
With a tiny sigh, he told himself he should just stop saying them. Still with his back at the library, he heard his readers shuffling in, quiet murmur of voices with it. He listened to it as it mixed with the pure discontent that was raging through him.
“What are you thinking about?” Stéphanie asked him, tenderly, seeing his turmoil.
“That... This is the last time I’m going to talk about “Les Printemps” and I’m a bit sad about it.” he half lied.
“Oh, dear. I’m sure though that those who loved it will still ask about it in the next years.”
Chris didn’t answer, his stomach twisting in anxiety and anticipation. She gave him a bottle of water; he opened it to take a gulp; his throat dried out.
“Are you ready now?”
Chris took a sharp, deep breath. “Now I am.” he said; so she nodded to Alain that they were ready to start the event.
He spoke first, thanking the costumers for coming; the murmur quieted down. While he was doing that small introduction, Chris finally turned around, facing the crowd; he was surprised to see no vacant chairs, at a first glance. That was enough to steal him a tiny smile, profoundly thankful.
As the shop assistant finished introducing him, Chris got up, heart in his throat beating like crazy; loud clapping welcomed him. Feeling extremely grateful and his cheeks on fire, he did a small bow, his hands on his chest, before sitting back down. He didn’t look directly at whoever was there for him as he always did, because that made him feel even more nervous and self-conscious; he had learned that the first time the hard way.
So, everything went like clockwork: Stéphanie and him did the usual introduction, a sort of back and forth on his story and its place in the LGBT literature genre; by then it was well studied and set up. Then, he got to read a part of the book: he could choose which one to read freely. Giving in to the dissatisfaction he felt, he decided to evoke the memory of seeing Richard for the first time; a cuddle he needed, a last goodbye to “Les Printemps” and how much it meant to him... He had to fight to not let his voice crack almost immediately, those thoughts so hurtful they took control of him. I have to calm down. It’s okay. I’m going to survive this one too. He encouraged himself as he read; he was then able to carry on until the end without letting his despair show too much.
The applause that greeted him though stole him another small smile, as he bowed again, so deeply grateful. He couldn’t help it: it was because of those strangers that he was there; of their love and gratitude. He really was so thankful, to each of them; no way to properly express that.
The Q&A segment flew by as it always did and finally, it was the time Chris looked the most forward to: the signing session. The readers got up and formed an orderly line, helped by Alain and the owners of the bookshop.
With each book, he received the love, the compliments and the sincere enthusiasm of his readers: he genuinely smiled to each of them, rejoicing in their beautiful words and putting his signature on the first page of his precious creature as best as he could.
Each of them hurt more.
Each of them was closer to the very last one.
He just wasn’t ready to say goodbye, not yet; not ever.
No matter how strongly he forced those thought back; they seemed to come back stronger and stronger, almost preventing him from living his last session to the fullest. He started asking himself if that was what was going to happen with each of his works; if that was the downside of being an author... Or if it was just because he had written his only ever declaration of love and it went unanswered. A silent rejection from the universe; the most definitive sign that he had been wrong in his impressions.
He had to quickly turn to Stéphanie for a gulp of water, disguising it as a way to stop his brain from going in overdrive. Come on, stay here. Here in the now. I’ll think of it later. Not now. Screwing the cap back on, he briefly looked to the queue to quantify how many people were still left; his attention was immediately captured by one of the attendees in line, and he didn’t even have to do a double take to feel his heart in throat, while it run the most furious race it ever did.
Standing there, shy as ever, more handsome than ever, was Richard. He was looking down at the book in his hands, his book, the same leather jacket as three years before; his hair still spiky but now styled in a mohawk… Chris almost froze in his place as complete incredulity got the better of him.
He allowed himself a second more to study him, to notice that he was manlier now, the last bits of teenage features almost disappeared; something different was shining in him, something that he didn’t have last time they met... Immediately that attraction was back, the pull towards him too; everything was back.
Richard was back.
He had to gather all his strength to not ignore the poor woman that was talking to him, forcing himself to look at her and give her his undivided attention. He had to physically shake his head to regain concentration; but inside, it was a battle of thoughts screaming against one another. He was just incredulous, speechless, positively shocked. It worked; his plan worked! Without even a translation! How could that be? Did Richard study French? Was he in Paris for whichever reason and he found the book, maybe even without reading it? Too many questions, again!
But even if his German was still not good enough to ask those questions in a coherent manner, it wasn’t going to stop him. Not anymore. After three whole, terrible, long years, they were mere feet away from meeting, talking again. He had to keep saying to himself to keep calm, to breathe and to listen what the other people who weren’t Richard had to say to him. Yet which each passing person he saw him get closer and closer. With each one he was getting more and more impatient, bouncing off walls inside him.
Richard’s turn came so suddenly it almost caught him by surprise.
In the few steps he took looking down, he noticed his heart beating so fast he couldn’t feel it anymore.
Then there was no turning back.
Taking a small, deep breath, he finally raised his gaze. To discover that Chris had recognized him immediately.
The expression on his face was of pure joy, surprise, incredulity. He too felt all those same emotions, doing nothing to hold back an enormous smile.
Chris even got up from his seat, saying his name in total, joyful surprise. How wonderful it sounded, said by him... He opened his arms wide, inviting him for a hug, and Richard, smiling so big his muscles ached, didn’t lose a moment: he leaned in across the counter, reaching for him, finding him.
Like that they were in each other’s arms again.
He hugged him as tight as he could, and for that perfect two seconds he recognized his smell, the one he never forgot, his heart dancing of happiness in his chest. He felt him too squeeze him tight; in that he relished so much... But then Chris moved away from him, still holding him by his arms though.
Courage almost failed him. He very well knew how to ask that simple question in German, yet he feared of mispronouncing something. But he fought that impression back and asked a very moved and very trembling “Wie geht’s?”. Looking deep into his green eyes full of emotion. Waiting for his reaction.
Richard was so incredulous he felt his face completely change, even his language was reset to his mother tongue: “...was?”. Did he imagine that completely?
He had to laugh, so happy to have caught him of guard... “I can speak a bit of German now.” he explained, in that same language.
He too had his same idea; he couldn’t believe it... He could only imagine how much more difficult was a for a French to learn German and yet... There he was, speaking correctly but with a heavy accent... His mother tongue spoken in Chris’ voice... “Oh, wow I’m… I don’t know what to say…! I’m fine, anyway; and you?” he happily answered in French, hoping to reciprocate the surprise.
“Oh! You speak French!” He was so incredibly surprised! He too studied his language! They really did read in each other’s minds! And so maybe he did read the book, too!
“Yes, I do… I’m here as I’m perfecting it in university.” he quickly explained, as he recognized pride filling Chris’ expression; he rejoiced in it. That was the real reward for all his work.
...in university? As in: he was getting graduated in his fucking mother tongue?! He had to smile wide at that, so sincerely astonished… “Woah, that’s… Simply amazing! And your accent is just perfect! Let me guess, are you studying at the Sorbonne?” he asked, slightly tilting his head. He really did speak wonderfully; he felt so much pride in him he didn’t think was possible…
“Well, yeah... I do.” Richard looked down for a moment, shily; incredulous that Chris had guessed immediately right... Did that connection work already? Well, if both had learned each other’s language that clearly was proof enough that it had never stopped…
“I had no doubts about that… Wonderful job.” He smiled even more proudly; he knew how important that university was and how much Richard had worked hard to get in. “And that’s my book!” he said, pointing at it, not resisting anymore the urge to know.
“Oh thanks… And… Yes, it is!” Richard quickly gave it to Chris, who took it with careful hands.
“So… Did you like it?” He asked, leaning on the table with the pen between his fingers, looking deeply in his eyes. Please tell me you’ve read it. Please tell me you know now how fucking much I care about you... What you mean to me...
Richard drowned in them. He had missed doing that. There was so much he wished he could tell him right then and there, but there was no time, there was still people waiting behind him for his autograph; and words failed him completely, so he just said a simple but meaningful: “I loved it... Thank you, Chris.”, his voice trembling. He hoped that he could hear all that was hidden in those two words.
He understood. He smiled as wide as he could. “Nothing to thank me for. I’m super glad you liked it.” He opened the book. He couldn’t let him go so simply. He couldn’t just leave it at that. He needed to see him again, as soon as possible. He had a few things to do soon after the session with Stéphanie, so he couldn’t ask to wait for him... In that second, he came up with an idea; he quickly scribbled a desperate request before actually signing. He then closed it, giving it back to Richard. “I’m so happy I got to see you again.” He said again in German. “How long are you going to be here?” he needed to know; not yet wanting to let him go... Stay some more, talk with me...
Richard kept speaking in French: “For another five months.” Yes. There’s still so much time…
He almost threw his arms in the air, like a soccer player that just scored the best goal of his career. So much time! So many possibilities to see him again... “Well, plenty of time to meet again”, he in fact managed to say before their conversation was abruptly interrupted by the shop assistant, who put a hand on Richard’s shoulder and started nudging him forward.
They quickly said bye to each other.
It was all over.
Chris watched Richard walk out from the library for a moment, as another man took his place in front of him.
How could he regain composure after his biggest dream had come true? But he somehow had to, his heart still soaring in the purest of skies, happiness so big he felt like exploding.
Richard had studied French for him, he had planned his whole career to be there; to study, of course, but maybe with the hope to meet him again...
Now he just had to pray he was going to read what he had wrote on the first page…
Once outside of the library, Richard stopped on the side for a deep breath and to gather his thoughts.
He met Chris. He fucking met Chris again. Chris studied fucking German to be able to communicate with him in the case they ever met again. Chris... Chris had been in his life again.
Half laughing, half incredulous, Richard opened the book to see what he had scribbled, not having had the chance to grasp it when they were in front of one another.
Before Chris’ signature, there were in fact some more lines written, the familiar calligraphy reading: “Let’s meet at the Cardinal Lemoine metro station at 7 p.m., please. I’ll be waiting there for you.”.
Richard closed the book abruptly, incredulousness washing over him like a wave.
Once Chris was home, he just had the time to take another shower and change in some fine yet casual clothes in preparation for the evening.
All the while, he was hoping Richard had read the message, hoping he was coming, hoping he could see him once more… No, hoping he could meet him many more times: now they had at least two languages to talk in, there was finally a chance to get to know him better, to discover how Richard was like and if he had been in any way right in his impressions.
To start again where they left off.
Richard quickly went back to his dorm to put the book down, hoping to find no one he knew in his path: that wish too was granted, and he was able to, once again, sit down on his bed and register the events that had happened.
It all had become true.
Not only that, but Chris had asked him to meet once more. Because of course those bare two minutes hadn’t been enough, at all.
Now it was all a matter of what to occupy himself with before going to the very familiar metro station that all the Sorbonne students used to take to move across Paris. To see Chris once more.
That thought alone almost made him laugh. Three years apart and now they were going to meet twice in the same day. Funny how destiny works…
The alarm clock on his bedside table signaled 5:45 p.m.. One hour and fifteen minutes to go.
Staying in the dorm could mean Valterri returning; he absolutely didn’t want that to happen.
Of course, there was no way to try and open a book in the study hall after all that went down.
Shooting up from the bed, he went out again, intentioned to lose time somehow.
Chris left his house to reach the metro station, so much anticipation, excitement and hope in him he felt like he was exploding.
He had to tell himself to breathe regularly, to stay calm and particularly to keep very well in mind that Richard could not show up to the appointment. For many, any reason.
He could have not opened the book, for example. He could have something else to do.
He had to scold himself: you clearly didn’t learn shit! Why didn’t you just simply write down your fucking phone number, too? Why are you so fucking stupid! He really didn’t know why he kept doing that same stupid mistake.
Yet, something in him was telling him he had no reason to be so harsh on himself, that everything was going to be okay.
My dream has just come true, I have all the right to delude myself, he thought, nerves so tight his stomach was a big, huge knot of anxiety.
Having wandered aimlessly around the neighborhood, having drank more coffees that he probably should have, always sitting in a place where he could have a clock available, Richard finally made his way to the Cardinal Lemoine station, his heart in his throat.
Once there, he decided to stand in a strategic point enough from where he could see both sides of the street and the exit of the metro, not exactly sure from which way Chris was going to come from.
He felt his hands tremble with the deepest anticipation ever, even more than while he was in line to enter the library.
Careful of not being in the way of other passers-by, he looked left and right; left and right.
He couldn’t wait any longer than that. He couldn’t wait for him to appear…
When Chris finally reached the station, he jumped down from the train and let the rest of the people in a rush walk faster than him.
He had again to remind himself to breathe and to appear as causal as he could; even though his heart was beating as loud as a drum in his ears.
He started climbing the stairs. He was mere feet away from possibly the best or worse night in quite some time.
A thousand prayers, a thousand thoughts swirled through his brain.
The few meters of the passageway to the outside seemed endless, as he walked with hope in each step.
It seemed to him as if with each of them his heart beat even more loudly.
As soon as he was out of the entrance, he unmistakably saw him. Richard was there.
He had to stop in his tracks, as he admired him for a second.
He was torturing his hands against his chest, looking around, maybe looking for him. Hope and impatience in his expression.
He had to blink fast a few times to gulp down a few tears of pure happiness. Everything had worked.
All he had done. All he had wished for.
Those he had in front of him were the first steps into a new beginning.
So, trying his best to be as calm as he could, he had to take a big breath before he called him.
As soon as Richard heard Chris’ voice, he turned to him as fast as he could; his heart in his throat again.
He saw him there, behind him; happy, emotional, breathtaking.
He couldn’t stop the smile forming on his face, the half laugh that came soon after. It was true, it all came true.
All he had done. All he had wished for.
All the Richards he had been in wait for that exact moment right there paraded in him.
Yes, Chris. We did it. Was all he could think of before blurting an equally as emotional: “Hi...”
The happiness, the joy in his eyes and voice were enough. Without losing a second, Chris went to him with fast steps, doing nothing to suppress an emotional smile; as he did, Richard moved too towards him, opening his arms wide.
He almost literally fell into them, hugging him tight.
This time he savored every second of it.
Everything literally stopped as he indulged in having Richard so close to him for the first time in years, letting himself feel the ever so familiar smell and warmth of him; the shape of his body he tried to remember so many times... The marvelous incredulousness in being there, with him, after having wished exactly that for so long feasting and dancing in his soul got the best of him, feeling his eyes fill with happy tears. He fought them back with strength; nothing had to ruin that perfect moment.
Without even realizing it he found himself holding Richard even tighter as the minutes ticked by, without wanting to let go yet; never wanting to.
It felt right.
Perfect.
Exactly what he was yearning for.
The impossible had happened and he finally could completely believe it.
Richard too couldn’t hold him tight enough. God he had missed him.. He was wonderfully reminded of how Chris’ hugs seemed to be designed to flawlessly hold him; how he was tall enough for his face to perfectly fit in his shoulder to say one.
How he had missed that warmth on him... His scent, the slight touch of his cheek on his forehead, the feel of his hand in the middle of his back...
If only time could stop and let him stay there until he had enough of his presence, to fill all the gaps left since that damned night… To have enough of him so that he could let go of that hold feeling satisfied...
“I can’t believe you’re here... I’ve missed you so much…” Chris murmured, still not letting go.
Those words touched him deeply; he didn’t know how to properly answer without saying too much already. “I’ve missed you too so much... I’m so happy, Chris…”, he let at least those words slip, happy he could finally say them to him, after having thought them to himself for so much time. He held back all the rest.
Chris had to fight back an impulse to just brush his cheek with a tiny, minuscule kiss; it was too early, he couldn’t give in to that small desire that just surfaced from his heart... Telling himself also that he couldn’t hold him forever, he let him slightly go, still leaving his hands on his arms, exactly as he did in the library; just to look at him again, to find those eyes he had never forgotten...
“You’ve grown so much.” he whispered, a way to tell him he found him even more irresistible than before, without actually saying it. It was just too early.
Richard felt himself blush deeply. “You did too! And… I really like your hair this way.” he blurted, having to look down, shyly.
“Oh, thank you... I’m very glad.” Chris’ cheeks colored pink, too.
The giggled, slightly embarrassed, still so close.
“How long have you been here?” he asked, curious; his voice still low.
“No more than twenty days, actually!” Richard said with another wide smile.
“You basically just arrived! And how has Paris been treating you?”
“Not bad, actually! Everyone seems quite nice.”
“Nice? In Paris? That’s a first!” Chris joked, this time putting his arms down and letting Richard go, breaking the enchantment that sweetly wrapped them. “So, I... I have to meet my friends, and I was wondering if you would like to come with me or...”
“Of course!” Richard interrupted him, enthusiastic. “Absolutely.” Passing the evening with him, getting to know his friends... Something he had never imagined, not even in his wildest dreams...
“Oh, great! Let’s go then.” He motioned Richard to follow him as he started descending the steps to the metro station, trying to desperately ignore the race in his chest.
Just a normal evening, as if a miracle didn’t just happen, as if he didn’t have Richard at his side again as he had wished for so long...