"I gave you my life, Eliott," Lucas's voice shatters, splinters.
Eliott replies softly, broken, hollow, "And I gave you mine."
"No," Lucas says, low and dark. "No, you didn't."
.
.
aka: eliott and lucas grow up together, but are separated when eliott is institutionalized in paris after a severe depressive episode. they reunite two years later when eliott is released, but everything has already changed before their eyes.
epigraph. i. ii. iii.
tw: discussions of suicide attempts, death, manic and depressive episodes, and uses of the q slur
.
.
.
july 4th, 1968
10:28
caen, france
~
Eliott wishes his mother was here to hold his hand. He isn't sure why he needs her here so much right now. He spent almost two years at the institution without her, where everything around him was blinding white and the air was cold and stale. Here, in a room at the psychiatric clinic, the floors are carpeted, the walls are painted a warm, beige color, and there are flowers on the tables, paintings on the walls; the small couch he's sitting on is comfortable, new. Maybe it's because he knows his mother could be here—she's just down the street, browsing through books at the library—but he told her he would be okay by himself. Maybe he could tell someone he just needs to go get her really quickly then he'll be back for his appointment. It would just be a minute or two. He would be back before they knew it—
There's a knock at the door, then it opens. Eliott jumps, but tries to calm himself down as the doctor enters the room. He's a tall, slim man around his mother's age. His hair is graying in flecks throughout, and his short, well-kept beard is almost completely gray. He's wearing a white button-up shirt and gray slacks, and a plain red tie. He smiles kindly at Eliott, walking over to him and holding out his hand.
"Eliott Demaury, yes?" he asks, maintaining his smile.
Eliott smiles back weakly, shaking the doctor's outstretched hand. "Yes, sir."
"My name is Dr. Garnier," he replies, taking a seat in the chair across from Eliott. "How about we start with any questions or concerns you want to tell me about. Okay?"
Eliott nods. "Okay," he considers, a long list already rolling around in his brain. Maybe he should start with the question he's most worried about the answer to. He takes a deep breath, wringing his hands. "Do you give people shocks here?"
Dr. Garnier seemed a little puzzled by the question, but recovered with his kind smile. "The latest guidance is that we should start straying away from that sort of therapy. But, if it's necessary, we usually sedate patients before we give them any sort of electric stimulation. If you don't mind me asking, did they give you electroconvulsive therapy often at the institution in Paris?"
Eliott bites his lip, then nods. "Whenever I got really bad they gave me shocks."
"And you have manic depressive disorder, correct?" Dr. Garnier asks. When Eliott nods, he continues. "Well, Eliott, usually we give someone shocks when medication or other therapies don't work. It's, in most cases, a last resort. Did they try to help you in any other way besides the shocks?"
Eliott feels anxiety creeping into his system, making his stomach turn and his head spin. "I was on a few medications, but they never worked. They started giving me lithium not too long before I left, and I think it works enough."
"How long have you been home, Eliott?" Dr. Garnier asks, looking up from his notes.
"A week and a half, maybe?" Eliott answers. "The days have all been blurring together. I always have to ask my maman what day it is, what time it is."
"So you're having trouble readjusting?"
Eliott nods. "It's been really difficult. Caen has changed so much, and my maman changed some things around our old house, and everything was just so different. And the day I got home, I went to go visit my... uh, my best friend and surprise him, but..."
Eliott's mouth goes dry, and a lump forms in his throat.
"But...?" Dr. Garnier urges kindly, listening carefully to Eliott's every word.
"He was angry with me," Eliott admits, his voice breaking. "Really angry."
"Your best friend was?" Dr. Garnier says, even more puzzled. "Do you know why he was angry?"
Eliott nods. He doesn't want to say it. He could never say the words out loud to anyone, let alone himself. He feels a tear roll down his cheek. He wipes it away quickly, sniffling. He nods again, and hopes Dr. Garnier wouldn't ask anymore questions about it.
"Why was he angry?" Dr. Garnier asks again.
Eliott runs his fingers along his bottom lip, trying to think of an answer. An answer that skirted around the real reason. "Some... Something that happened. Right before I was sent to the institution."
Eliott hears papers rustling. He looks up and sees Dr. Garnier searching for something in a small folder. He finds the page he's looking for, his eyes scanning it quickly. He sighs.
"It says here that the reason you were admitted to the institution due to a suicide attempt," he says quietly. "Is that why your friend was angry?"
Eliott nods. More tears are falling from his eyes, and it's getting harder for him to hold them back. The words suicide attempt rattle loudly in his mind, drowning out all his other thoughts.
"You seem to care about your friend a lot, Eliott," Dr. Garnier observes. "Did he give you a chance to explain yourself, or explain what happened the night of your attempt?"
Eliott shakes his head. "I don't think I could have if he did give me a chance, either. I can't talk about what happened that night, or really anything that happened before. It's too hard. It hurts too much."
"These are very traumatic events, Eliott. It's okay if they're difficult to talk about," Dr. Garnier says.
"It's been two years," Eliott breathes, shutting his eyes. "Two years is a long time. Time enough to get over it, right?"
"Not necessarily," Dr. Garnier replies. "There are things we simply can't forget. It's okay if you're still grieving, Eliott. Do you understand?"
Eliott nods, sniffling. "I understand."
"When you got to the institution," Dr. Garnier begins. "Were the doctors and nurses aware of the circumstances that caused you to be institutionalized?"
Eliott nods. "My maman told them everything."
"Were any of your treatments meant to help you process those traumas? Were they ever addressed?"
Eliott shakes his head. "I don't think so."
Dr. Garnier sighs. "They should have been a long time ago. I deeply apologize that that wasn't done when it should have been. I want to start working on that with you, Eliott. Okay?"
Eliott takes a deep, shaky breath. "Okay."
"I know it's hard," Dr. Garnier begins. "But can you tell me what happened leading up to your institutionalization? You don't have to give me any details you're not comfortable sharing. Okay?"
Eliott nods, trying to collect himself. "One time, around Christmas, I realized I was feeling more energetic than usual. The day after Christmas, I was in my room all day sketching in the new sketchpad my parents got me. I think I wrote some sort of comic book. But I didn't think anything of it when it was happening. My whole life I've had these strange, random bursts of energy. Then, around mid-January I started to get depressed, but I just figured it was because it was winter. My maman gets sad during winter sometimes, so I just thought I was like her. Things went back to normal beginning of February, but I was still kinda fluctuating. But then..." Eliott's words were stuck in his throat, but he breathed slowly, and let the words stumble out of his mouth. "As long as I can remember, my papa would get sick really easily. Maman said he was badly injured in the war and his health was never the same after that. But that May, he got really sick. It was different this time. We could tell. We took him to the hospital, and we always stayed in his room with him. We would sleep there every night just in case something happened, and one morning I woke up and... He was dead."
"My condolences," Dr. Garnier replies quietly.
"I became so depressed I barely had the strength to breathe. But I had my maman, and Lucas, and all our other friends."
"Is Lucas your best friend?" Dr. Garnier replies.
Eliott nods. "A little over a month after Papa died, I started getting excited again. In the back of my mind, I knew I shouldn't be reacting this way, but I was so happy. I ran all over the place with Lucas, and around sunset we went down to the beach. The water was calm, and then there was this wave and it crashed over Lucas and pulled him under. I was able to pull him out, but when I got him to shore, he wasn't breathing. He was dead for about ten minutes, but I was able to revive him. I can't imagine what would've happened if I wasn't able to save him. And after that... It was unlike anything I'd ever felt before. All these... emotions were clashing within me. It was like I was walking in a minefield. I went through this for a day or two. Then, that night, I reorganized my bookshelf four or five times by color and title and author's name and height, then the next moment I started crying and I couldn't stop. I realized I couldn't take it anymore. So, I..." Eliott didn't want to finish his sentence, and he didn't have to.
"That's quite the weight to carry, Eliott," Dr. Garnier says, setting his notes aside. "And Lucas is angry with you, too? Have you tried to reach out to him? Will he talk to you?"
Eliott shrugs. "I haven't tried to, but I don't think he'd be willing to talk to me. He made himself pretty clear the last time we talked."
"How long have you known Lucas, Eliott?"
"We've known each other since we were babies. I'm only a couple of weeks older than him. We've spent our whole lives together. Literally. I can't imagine living a life without him, and suddenly I am. He's moving on. He's engaged. He'll be going off to medical school in Paris. He's gonna leave me behind."
"Eliott," Dr. Garnier says, looking Eliott straight in the eye. "You owe it to yourself and to Lucas to try and fix whatever's happening between you two. I can see how much you care about him. He must feel the same way, right?"
Eliott shakes his head. "He won't listen. He's stubborn as a mule. I told my maman, he's had two years to make up his mind about me and what happened that night. He hates me, and his mind is made about that. It's not going to change, and it shouldn't. I abandoned him. All I would've left behind if he hadn't stopped me that night is a letter."
"Lucas is the one who stopped you?" Dr. Garnier asks.
"He was," Eliott replies. "I was... I was about to walk out into the water but he called my name and ran to me and he just held me. He was there. And then I had to leave, and when I came back, he wasn't there anymore. Not for me, anyway."
"Does he know about your diagnosis? What your diagnosis means as far as how it affects you and your relationship with him?"
Eliott sighs, shrugging. "I'm sure my maman told him when they told her my diagnosis. I don't know if he knows anything specific, really."
Dr. Garnier thinks for a moment, then asks, "Do you think your mother could get through to him?"
Eliott thinks, too, imagining the scenario play out in his head. "Maybe. She always calls him her second son."
"She knows about the situation between you two?"
"She was the first person I went to after I tried to talk to him," Eliott nods. "She knows almost everything about me."
Dr. Garnier smiles. "I'm glad you're so close to her, Eliott. Were you close with your father as well?"
Eliott smiles sadly, nodding. "We were a happy, tight-knit family. Maman and I miss him a lot."
"He seems like he was a good man," Dr. Garnier replies.
"He was," Eliott agrees. "He was the best man in the world, I think."
"You've been through so much, Eliott," Dr. Garnier says, his smile even kinder. "But I can tell you have so much strength in you yet. You have your whole life ahead of you, boy. Make it the best it can be. Okay?"
Eliott smiles back, nodding. "Okay."
"Good," Dr. Garnier replies, patting Eliott softly on the shoulder. "Unless you have any more questions or concerns, Eliott, you're free to leave. Though, I would like to ask your mother a few questions. Is she in the lobby?"
"She went down to the library, but I can go and tell her you want to talk to her."
Dr. Garnier nods. "If you would, please. It'll just be for a few minutes."
Eliott nods, rising from his seat. Dr. Garnier stands up, too, holding out his hand. Eliott shakes his hand, giving him a shy smile.
"If something happens, or if you need us for any reason at all, don't hesitate to call us and let us you know you need to come in," Dr. Garnier tells him. "We'll be here for you, Eliott."
"Thank you, Doctor," Eliott replies, smiling wider. "Maybe next time I'll have some good news about Lucas."
"I hope so," Dr. Garnier returns genuinely. "I can really tell how much you care about him. Don't let him go. Okay?"
"I won't," Eliott promises.
"Good," Dr. Garnier grins. "Let me lead you out then I'll talk to your mother."
Eliott nods. "Thank you again, Doctor."
"You're very welcome." he smiles back, opening the door and letting Eliott step out. He walks down the hallway and enters the lobby, where the receptionist thanks him for coming and tells him to have a good day. He smiles at her, thanking her, and goes out through the front, glass doors.
It's cooler than usual outside, but still pleasantly warm. The sun is shining, with a few pure white, fluffy clouds sailing across the sky. He can still smell all the salt in the air, just barely hear the waves crashing on the shore. He exhales, feeling lighter.
He starts walking down the street, heading to the library. He can see it, just in the distance. It's an older building that somehow managed to survive all the bombings during the war. But, like the church, it has its scars, burns on the outside. It's still a beautiful building, rich and warm with history and every imaginable string of words language can offer. Eliott pauses for a moment when he reaches the entrance, tilting his head back to look up at the top of the building. He remembers how tall it looked when he was younger, and seeing how much shorter it seems now makes Eliott pause a moment longer than he intended to. He shakes his head, opening the door and entering the library.
Eliott's mother was checking out a small pile of books at the front desk. She grins when she notices him walking up to her, giving him one of her tight, comforting hugs.
"How was it, honey?" she asks, warmth and pride in her voice.
"Good," he replies. "But Dr. Garnier wanted to ask you a couple of questions for a couple minutes if that's okay."
"Of course," she replies. The librarian hands her books and she thanks her kindly. "Do you want to look at some books while I do that?"
Eliott shakes a head. "I still have to read all the ones you gave me for my birthday. I'll just wait in the lobby."
"Okay," she nods, putting her books in her bag. "Let's go, then."
They're quiet for a moment as they leave, but she starts asking Eliott questions once they start walking back up to the office.
"Is the doctor nice?"
"He is," Eliott answers. "He's very understanding. Very kind."
"I'm glad," she smiles. "What did you two talk about?"
"He asked me when I first started showing symptoms," he begins. "So I told him about the Christmas before Papa died. And when Papa died and when Lucas drowned and... everything else after that."
His mother looks over at him, an emotion he can't quite distinguish on her face. "Was it hard to talk about?"
Eliott bites his lip, nodding. "It was. But he helped me through it. He gave me advice and everything."
"I'm proud of you, honey," she tells him, tearful. "I know you don't like to talk about all that."
"Thank you, Maman," Eliott smiles, getting tearful, too. "It gets a little easier every time."
They reach the office, and Eliott opens the door for his mother. Dr. Garnier is standing by the front desk, writing something down on his clipboard. He looks up and smiles when he sees them. He sets his clipboard down and approaches them, his hand outstretched towards Eliott's mother.
"I'm Dr. Pierre Garnier," he introduces, shaking her hand. "And you're Eliott's mother, yes?"
"Yes, sir," she replies, smiling back. "Noémie."
"Noémie," Dr. Garnier repeats. "Well, thank you so much for giving me a couple of minutes of your time. I just need to ask a couple of questions about Eliott. Would you like to come back with us, Eliott?"
Eliott shakes his head. "No, it's okay. I can wait here."
"Are you sure, honey?" his mother asks. "I don't mind if you're in there with us."
Eliott smiles, nodding. "I'm sure, Maman."
"Okay," she replies, smiling back. "We won't be long."
Dr. Garnier smiles at Eliott, too, then leads his mother down the hallway.
july 4th, 1968
11:21
caen, france
~
Eliott sighs, sitting down in one of the chairs. There's a table next to him, one with a vase full of flowers sitting on top of it. They're fresh, the petals soft and almost dewy. They're irises, Eliott thinks, with their droopy petals with a dot of yellow in the middle. He smiles again, leaning in to breathe in their sweet, fragrant scent. He wonders what his time at the institution could've been like if it was anything like this. No shocks, no itchy, stiff clothes, no echoes of desperate screams ricocheting off the walls. Instead, there could have been flowers, space to breathe, kind smiles, time to think and cope. Would he have been away for so long? Would he have been away from home, from his maman, from Lucas for two years? Would Lucas have been less mad when he came back home? Would any of Lucas's love been left, enough to make Eliott smile and his heart sing and and the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end?
He sighs again, looking up from the flowers. Through the glass, he can see a couple walking by holding hands. He sees the woman first, and she looks vaguely familiar. She has a round face and high cheekbones, and she's wearing a wide smile. Eliott thinks she's laughing. But the man reveals his face as he looks over at her, and Eliott's heart nearly stops. The eyes, the smile...
Lucas.
Their eyes meet, and suddenly Eliott's heart has started beating again, stuttering and stumbling over itself. Lucas seems just as overwhelmed, his mouth dropping open and blinking as if he needed to clear his vision. The girl, Chloé, turns, too, but she smiles and waves when she sees Eliott. He manages a smile for her, waving back.
Go to him, Eliott's heart tells him, its voice clear through his stuttering heartbeat.
He pauses for a moment, but his mind takes over and he stands up, jogging out the door to reach Lucas and Chloé. He stops in front of them, widening his smile.
"Salut," he greets politely.
"Salut!" Chloé returns cheerfully.
"Salut," Lucas returns quietly.
"What's this place?" Chloé asks, looking up at the sign.
"It's a psychiatric office," Eliott answers. "I'm just here for a... check-up, I guess."
"Oh," Chloé smiles, almost fake. "I never knew what this was. But how are you feeling, Eliott? Lucas told me you haven't been feeling very well and that's why he hasn't been able to go visit you."
Eliott feels a shallow, echoing pang in his chest. He immediately, desperately looks at Lucas, but his eyes are trained on the ground. Eliott tries to recover, smiling again and looking back at Chloé. "Oh, yes. I'm doing a lot better now. Just needed some time to readjust, I think."
Chloé's eyes widen as she grins. "Oh, that's great to hear! Maybe you'll be well enough to come to Lucas's birthday party next week! We would've invited you right away, but Lucas was worried you may not be feeling well still by the time we have the party. What do you think, Lucas?"
Lucas perks up, his eyes darting between Eliott and Chloé. He must've spaced out a bit. Eliott can see the traces of daydream, fantasy fogging up Lucas's eyes. He smiles a little, nodding. "If Eliott thinks he's well, of course he can come." He looks at Eliott again, his eyes cleared up, but there's a sadness in them, a darkness lurking in the depths.
"Eliott, you have to come!" Chloé cuts in, so enthusiastic she's almost bouncing. "It'll be so fun for you and Lucas to celebrate together! Especially since he missed your party. I'm still mad at him for not telling me about that, you know. We could've rescheduled our little lunch date."
"It's okay," Eliott lies. "You're his fiancée. You should come first, right?"
Eliott risks another glance at Lucas, but he's zoned out again. He's staring at his hand, the one that's holding Chloé's. He's frowning, his eyebrows knit. Eliott is sure Lucas can't hear a word him and Chloé are saying. He bites his lip, turning his attention back to Chloé.
"I suppose," Chloé replies. "But you've known him since you two were so little. I can't compare to that."
Eliott sighs, shrugging.
"No, really, Eliott," Chloé says, more serious. "Let us make it up to you. Come to Lucas's party."
He takes another deep breath, finally nodding. "Okay. I'll come."
"Perfect!" Chloé beams. "It's a week from today at Lucas's at 7. And if you can't get him a gift, don't worry about it. Just having you there will be gift enough, I'm sure." She looks over at Lucas, realizing he's spacey. She shakes his shoulder gently, looking at him with a hint of concern. He raises his eyebrows, but quickly recovers. He smiles again and nods.
"Of course," he says, pulling her close and kissing her quickly on the lips. "We'd better be on our way, right, mon amour?"
Eliott feels another pang in his chest, but it's deeper, sharper. A lifetime ago, Lucas had such a way of piercing Eliott with deep, bleeding cuts that never seemed to hurt. In this new life, this new body, everything suddenly hurts so terribly Eliott feels like he could die. Where did the blissful hurt go? Where's the tug of Lucas's gaze, the sting of his smile? Where did Lucas go? Where did Eliott go?
"We should," Chloé says. "We'll see you at the party, Eliott!" She kisses either side of his face, waving goodbye as she takes Lucas's hand again.
Lucas waves goodbye, too, but it's small, timid. That sadness is still in his eyes, but it's wider, deeper.
Eliott watches them as they walk away, the pangs in his chest throbbing.
"Turn around, mon amour," Eliott whispers, just barely louder than his breathing.
Lucas and Chloé are halfway down the hill when Lucas finally looks over his shoulder. Eliott feels that familiar tug, and it hurts blissfully, like it used to.
The throbbing eases.
january 3rd, 1956
11:56
caen, france
~
Eliott watches his father sitting in their car, worry making his little stomach turn. All last week, his father has had a horrible cough and a horrible fever. His mother had to convince him to let her take him to the hospital so they could know what was wrong. Yesterday, his father finally agreed, and they finally sat Eliott down and told him he'll need to stay at Lucas's for a little awhile, just until his father gets better. Normally, he would be bouncing off the walls knowing he'd get to spend the night with Lucas, but now he was just scared and sad for his papa.
"Thank you so much for watching Eliott for us, Madeleine," he hears his mother say. He looks over and sees her handing Lucas's mother a suitcase with all his stuff in it. In a worried rush, she continues,"There's a few days' worth of clothes in there, and his toothbrush and all his favorite books and toys. I'll call every night and let you know if anything happens. And I'll talk to Eliott, too. Hopefully that'll make him feel better. If he ever gets really upset, Eduard and I just hug him and rub his back until he calms down. That usually works."
"Breathe, Noémie," Madame Lallemant says, setting the suitcase aside and putting her hands on Eliott's mother's shoulders. "We'll take good care of your boy. We promise. Just take Eduard to the hospital and help him get better. Is it pneumonia again?"
Eliott's mother nods, tears welling in her eyes. "I think so."
"He's beaten it before," Madame Lallemant reasons, trying to soothe her. "He'll beat it this time, too."
She sighs, looking up at the sky for a moment. She shakes her head. "What if he doesn't?"
Eliott feels his eyes becoming wet, too. He sniffles, running up to her and throwing his arms around her legs, hugging her as best he can. Her clothes are soft, and she smells warm, and it makes Eliott cry.
"Oh, honey," he hears her choke out. She moves his arms gently away from her so she can kneel in front of him. She holds his face in her hands, wiping away his tears. "Listen to me, okay? I need you to be a good boy for Madame and Monsieur Lallemant. I need you to listen to them if they tell you to do something. And I need you to pray for Papa."
"Will Papa get better, Maman?" he just barely asks through his tears.
She takes a deep breath, nodding. "He'll get better, baby."
"Promise?" Eliott asks.
She bites her lip, but manages a smile. "I promise, Ellie. Now, come here."
She opens her arms, and he throws his around her neck. She hugs him so tightly, he almost can't breathe. She kisses his cheek, his ear, his temple. She rubs his back with small, soothing circles, and his breathing slows and his eyes dry.
"I have to go now, honey," she whispers in his ear.
"Okay," Eliott nods, trying to hold back new tears brimming on his lashline.
"Papa and I will be back as soon as we can," she promises, brushing his hair out of his eyes. "I'll call and talk to you every night until we get back."
"Okay," he says again. "I love you, Maman."
She smiles, a single, small tear rolling down her cheek. "I love you, too, Ellie."
She hugs him again, this time lifting him up so his feet aren't touching the ground. She swings him a bit as he kicks his legs.
"Put me down, Maman!" Eliott giggles.
She puts him down then, her smile wider and more genuine. "I'll see you soon, honey."
"See you soon, Maman," Eliott smiles back.
She kisses his forehead and walks over to the car, where his father sat waiting. He waves at Eliott through the window, trying to smile, but gets into another coughing fit. Eliott's heart sinks, and the car starts driving away.
"Are you okay, Eliott?" Madame Lallemant asks him softly, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Do you wanna have some lunch?"
Eliott shrugs. "My stomach feels funny."
"Do you just want some water, then? Maybe a few slices of apple? Do you think you could eat that?"
Eliott thinks for a moment, then nods. "Thank you, Madame Lallemant."
"You're welcome," she replies, smiling kindly. "Let's go inside, then."
Eliott nods again, following her inside.
"Lucas, buddy, are you almost done cleaning your room?" Madame Lallemant calls. "Eliott's here and I'm about to get lunch ready."
"Coming, Maman!" Lucas responds, his footsteps pattering on the floor as he runs down the stairs. He beams when he sees Eliott, running over to him and giving him a hug.
"Hi, Lucas," Eliott giggles, hugging him back.
"I'm so happy you get to stay here with me," Lucas says, pulling away. "We're gonna have so much fun! Wait, Eliott are you okay? Are you crying?"
Eliott wipes at his cheeks and rubs at his eyes. "I'm just scared for my papa. He's really sick again."
"My maman said he'll be okay," Lucas replies confidently. "So he'll be okay."
Eliott smiles. "My maman said that, too, so yeah. He'll be okay."
"Come sit down at the table, boys," Madame Lallemant tells them. "And Eliott, I have your apple ready for you."
Eliott finds his chair and Madame Lallemant sets a small plate with apple slices on them in front of him. He thanks her, and nibbles on one. He smiles, though. She must've gotten it from the market today. It's sweet and fresh. He takes a slightly bigger bite, and his stomach settles a little.
"How come Eliott gets to eat first?" Lucas asks, pouting a little.
"He said he isn't very hungry, so he just has an apple," Madame Lallemant replies. "But you, my baby boy, are gonna eat as much food as your little stomach can hold, right?"
"I'm not a baby, Maman," Lucas groans, rolling his eyes. "But I do like food."
"No, you're not a baby," she agrees. "But you're my baby boy. Just like Eliott is Madame Demaury's baby boy," Eliott nods at this, finishing off his second apple slice. "And just like when you grow up and marry a nice girl your baby boys will be her baby boys."
"But what if our babies are girls?" Lucas asks.
"Then they'll be your baby girls," Madame Lallemant answers. "Maybe she'll have some baby boys and maybe you'll have some baby girls, too."
Lucas grimaces, shrugging. "Girls are gross."
"But I'm a girl, Lucas," she gasps. "Am I gross?"
"No," Lucas shakes his head. "Because you're my maman. Girls who aren't my maman are gross."
"I don't think girls are gross," Eliott chips in, starting to bite into his third apple slice.
"Good boy, Eliott," Madame Lallemant smiles. "And good job eating your apple slices."
Eliott smiles. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," she returns. "And Lucas, our lunch is ready."
She sets a plate in front of him with roast beef and potatoes, and Lucas grins. He accepts the fork she hands to him, and starts shoveling potatoes in his mouth.
"Slow down, buddy," she reminds him. "Enjoy your food."
He nods, chewing slower.
"Now, boys," she begins. "After lunch, do you want to draw and color for a bit? I bought some new crayons yesterday just for you two."
It's Eliott's turn to grin. He nods enthusiastically, almost hurting his neck a little. "I love drawing!"
She grins back at him. "I know. Your maman told me. But we'll wait until Lucas and I are done with our lunch to start drawing, okay?"
"Okay," Eliott agrees. He finishes off his apples, and decides he's still a little hungry. "Madame Lallemant, could I have some potatoes, please?"
"Of course," she replies. "Just hand me your plate."
He nods, holding it out to her. She spoons out a few, looking to Eliott, who nods. "That's good. Thank you, Madame." He gladly takes his plate back and eats a bit more.
"I think you could teach Lucas some manners, Eliott," Madame Lallemant teases, looking over at her son.
Lucas rolls his eyes, eating a bite of roast beef.
"Or," she continues. "Some drawing techniques."
Lucas shrugs, still chewing.
"I can teach you how to draw animals," Eliott adds. "But I can only draw raccoons, bears, and rabbits."
Lucas giggles at Eliott's response. "Okay, Eliott."
"I want to learn how to draw more, though," Eliott replies. "We can learn together, Lucas!"
Lucas smiles, nodding. "Okay."
They all finish their lunches, and Eliott is practically bouncing in his seat as Madame Lallemant goes to get the paper and the brand new crayons. She had gotten the big box with an even wider rainbow of colors to choose from. Eliott's mouth drops open, staring in awe at the pointed ends, all the colors he never knew they used for crayons. He pulls out a blue one, studying the color.
"Lucas, look," he beams. "This crayon is the same color as your eyes!"
"It does!" Madame Lallemant smiles. "We'll have to draw Lucas and use that for his eyes. We can set it aside until we need to use it."
Eliott nods, placing it over by Madame Lallemant. He takes a sheet of paper, and grabs a few shades of brown and a black crayon. He starts drawing a bear, small and round and fluffy, smiling wide with two bandages crossed over its heart. He spends a little extra time on the fur, using multiple shades of brown to create a rudimentary yet rich, colorful coat of fur.
"What are you drawing, Eliott?" Lucas asks.
Eliott holds up his paper for him to see. "It's my papa, after the doctors make him better."
"Your papa's not a bear, Eliott!" Lucas giggles.
"Lucas!" Madame Lallemant scolds. "Madame Demaury said Eliott draws his papa like a bear."
Eliott nods, trying not to seem hurt by Lucas's laughing. "My maman is a rabbit, and I'm a raccoon."
"What am I, Eliott?" Lucas asks.
"Huh?" Eliott hums, confused.
"What animal am I?" he clarifies.
"Oh," Eliott stutters. "I don't know. Maybe a hedgehog? Because you're tiny and pointy."
Lucas tilts his head, eyebrows knit. "A hedgehog?"
"Yeah," Eliott replies, getting a picture in his head. "Here, let me show you."
Eliott grabs another sheet of paper and keeps his brown crayons. He draws a hedgehog, with its spikes and whiskers. He writes Lucas's name beneath it and shows it to him, a little nervous.
"It does look kind of like you, buddy," Madame Lallemant says, smiling. "That's really good, Eliott!"
"What do you think of mine, Maman?" Lucas cuts in, showing her his drawing.
"That's really good, too, Lucas," she replies, her smile widening. "Actually, yours gives me an idea." She takes a sheet of paper and draws a line down the middle of it. "Okay, Lucas, you draw on this side of the paper," she instructs, pointing at the right side of the paper. "And Eliott, you draw on the other side. Then, I was thinking we can write 'best friends forever on the line. Split it in half, you know? What do you boys think?"
"I like it," Eliott smiles.
"I do, too," Lucas agrees.
"I can draw a raccoon and you can draw a hedgehog!" Eliott says.
"I don't know how to draw a hedgehog," Lucas replies. "Can you teach me?"
Eliott nods, then teases, "Yes, Lucas. I'm Mr. Demaury and I'm your art teacher today."
Lucas laughs, and it makes Eliott laugh, too. Eliott tears a small piece off one of his papers and draws on it, breaking down into small shapes and outlines. He tries to keep it simple for Lucas, but he isn't sure how to. He just draws, lets his mind guide his little hand across the page. How does he teach that to Lucas?
"This is too hard, Eliott," Lucas pouts. "Can't we just draw ourselves?"
Eliott feels a little sad that him and Lucas can't do animals, but he nods. "Okay."
He can't draw people as well as he can draw animals, but he tries his hardest on his side of the drawing. He draws his hair, his blue shirt and gray pants, his house, the beach and the water. He doesn't think it looks very good, but when he sees it next to Lucas's, he can't help but smile. They look almost exactly the same as far the drawings go. It's like they became one artist, one hand. Eliott loves it.
"Do you two wanna write 'best friends forever' on there?" Madame Lallemant asks, pointing at the line in the middle. "Eliott, you write B-E, then F-R-I, then F-O-R, okay?"
Eliott nods, writing his letters next to the line. Lucas snatches the crayon from his hand and finishes off the message. Eliott feels his heart sink again.
"Good job, boys!" Madame Lallemant grins, holding up the picture and looking at it more closely. "We need to show this to your parents when they get back, Eliott! They'll love it!"
Eliott smiles, imagining his mother's beaming smile and his father's delighted laugh. He misses his parents already.
"Which side is better, Maman?" Lucas asks.
"They're both good, buddy," she laughs. "Neither of them are better than the other one."
"I like yours, Lucas," Eliott says. "I like your house."
"I like yours, Eliott," Lucas replies. "I like your water."
"See, you both like the other one better, so they're both good, right?" Madame Lallemant asks.
Lucas and Eliott nod. Eliott smiles. "Lucas still needs to learn how to draw a hedgehog, though."
"I will!" Lucas laughs back. "You need to learn how to draw people, Eliott."
Somehow, Lucas's words make Eliott's stomach turn. He feels his throat close up a little, feels his eyes get wet.
"That's mean," Eliott chokes out.
Madame Lallemant doesn't hear him, and neither does Lucas.
july 11th, 1968
18:57
caen, france
~
Eliott studies the drawing he's just finished, examining the lines and the colors. The pale belly and face of the hedgehog accentuating the warm, dusty colors of its spines. The yin-yang structure of the raccoon's face, its spindly fingers and its pointed ears. The color and the grain of the Lallemants' dining room table, the lightest fading and yellowing on the papers they drew on, the tiny little drawings lying on the table. Their little feet dangling in the air as they sit, the raccoon's face falling ever so slightly, the hedgehog's face scrunched up with laughter. The day Eliott still remembers so clearly, over 14 years later. The day Eliott almost realized he would love Lucas for the rest of his life. The day he realized how mean Lucas can be sometimes. The day he realized he was afraid Lucas could be even meaner if he wanted to. But 5-year-old Eliott could never foresee Lucas calling him selfish, telling him he never loved him, not truly. He could never imagine Lucas turning his back to him and walking away, no matter how much it hurt him to do it. And, if Eliott is honest, he still can't quite imagine it either, even though the pain of it still lingers just beneath his skin. Even though the pain of it bleeds into every line, every color of his drawing.
Eliott shifts his focus to the letter he plans to attach with the drawing. It's brief, and Eliott barely recognizes his own handwriting, but it says everything Eliott couldn't say through his drawing.
Lucas,
I know this isn't the best time to do this, but we need to talk. We need to explain ourselves to each other. We've loved each other far too much and for far too long for us to part the way we did the day I came home. We deserve better. You deserve better, Lucas. I need you to know that. I'm willing to follow you wherever you go if you'll have me along. Just say the word. Just give me a day, a time, a place. I'll be there. And I'll fight. I'll fight until my last breath, or until you tell me to surrender, whichever comes first. My loyalty belongs to you, Lucas. Yes, it's fallen short. Yes, at times it's cracked and timid. But it's yours. And it will be yours as long as you'll have it. Just let me know if you don't want it anymore, or if you plan on nurturing it for only a little while longer. Just speak to me, Lucas. When you're ready. You know where I'll be when you are ready. I'll wait for you. I promise.
Sincerely yours, Eliott
It's an explanation, an apology, a love letter, tied up with a fraying, old bow. All Eliott can do is hope that it'll be enough to convince Lucas to give him another chance, give them another chance. Lucas doesn't need to break off his engagement. He doesn't need to kiss Eliott or hold him until he falls asleep like he used to. He just needs to be there whenever he can. He just needs to be Eliott's friend again. Is that too much to ask for?
He sighs deeply, folding up the letter and the drawing and placing each of them in separate envelopes. He seals the one with the letter first, then writes Lucas's name on the front of it. His hand shakes as he writes it, the letters coming out jagged and stilted. He shakes his head, moving on to the envelope with the drawing. He wills himself to slow down, spend as much time on each letter as he can. He writes Lucas's name gently, patiently. He doesn't want Lucas to open the letter in front of everyone anyway. It's okay if that one isn't as pretty.
"Eliott, honey," his mother says, knocking quietly on his door. "You're gonna be late for Lucas's party."
"I'm coming, Maman," Eliott replies, gathering himself, his emotions.
"You're looking smart," she smiles, studying his outfit. "I don't remember that shirt."
Eliott smiles back, smoothing out his shirt. It's white accented with purple, pink, and blue flowers, and the sleeves are a little longer, resting just above his elbows. He's paired it with his favorite navy blue slacks. He hates to admit how long it took him to pick his outfit out. But he plays it off, shrugging nonchalantly. "Just something I found in my closet."
"Are you excited for Lucas's party?" she asks, smiling widely, but still visibly bracing herself for his answer.
He shrugs, then nods. "Yeah, I think so."
"Are you sure you don't want me to reach out to Madeleine, like Dr. Garnier said?" she asks softly, relaxing but her posture is still concerned. "You don't have to go to Lucas's party if it's going to make you upset."
"I have to talk to him, Maman," Eliott sighs. "And now's my chance to do that. I'll get him alone at some point, and I'm going to at least tell him my side of the story from that night. He needs to know why I did that to him, even though there's no excuse for it. I need him to know why I did it."
She gives him one of her wobbly smiles. "Okay. But if you need to come home, come home, okay?"
Eliott nods. "I will." He gives her a brief hug and kisses her on the cheek. "Thank you, Maman."
She mutters a "you're welcome" as he walks down the stairs, tucks Lucas's letter into his pocket. He turns and waves at her as he goes out the door. He shuts it behind him, pausing for a moment to even out his breathing. He shuts his eyes, repeating the same words to himself.
He needs to know, he needs to know, he needs to know
He opens his eyes, exhaling slowly, deeply. He walks over to Lucas's house, the grass soft and silent beneath his feet. The sound of the wave, its whisperings soothe him a little, slowing his breathing and his heartbeat a little more. He hears crickets, the wind, car engines—and somewhere, distantly, the gentle, insistent buzzing of hope. It guides him across the way to Lucas's house, with warm lights spilling out of its windows and old, worn cars surrounding it.
He walks up to the front door, memories from a few weeks ago making his feet feel glued to the front porch and a lump lodge itself in his throat. He listens a little closer to the noises of the night, working up the courage, the strength to knock on the door.
Chloé answers, with her too wide smile and too bright eyes. They get even brighter when she sees him. She's suddenly wrapping him in a tight, uncomfortable hug.
"We didn't think you were going to make it, Eliott!" she beams.
"Fashionably late?" he tries, laughing nervously.
"You do look amazing," she compliments. "I love your shirt, where'd you get it? I bet I could convince Lucas to wear something like this."
"I honestly can't remember," he answers truthfully. "I think I got it at that second-hand store downtown a while ago."
"Oh, I love that store!" Chloé smiles. "Lucas and I will have to go down there. But, come in! You can put any gifts you have on that table over there."
Eliott smiles back at her, walking past her nervously as she holds the door open for him.
"Eliott!" He hears several people cheer once he enters the Lallemants' living room.
He grins back at everyone, quickly scanning the room. He sees Yann, Emma, Manon, Imane, Alexia, Arthur with a girl with short, curly hair and glasses (he thinks they're speaking sign language with each other), Basile and Daphné, Daphné's little sister (Lola?) and a shorter girl with purple hair he doesn't recognize, Idriss and Sofiane, and several other people he doesn't recognize. They must all be Chloé's friends, Eliott assumes. He tries to ignore the strangers' stares, instead focusing on trying to find Lucas.
He spots him, then, standing by the gift table talking to his mother.
Lucas is wearing that old denim shirt he always wears for special occasions, and he still looks so good wearing it for the thousandth time. He's laughing at something his mother says, and Eliott can hear his laugh over any other noise in the world in that one, single moment. His laughter drowns out the song of the crickets, the roar of the waves, the drumming of Eliott's heart in his chest, the thunder rumbling from some distant stormcloud. The world is quiet, and the only noise that's left, the only sound that's triumphed over the deafening silence is Lucas's laugh. Eliott feels himself smile, feels a weight roll off his shoulders, feels his chest fill with something he can't quite describe. The letter in his back pocket and the drawing in his hand are almost burning him, but it reminds him of the burns Lucas would give him. Not quite a burn, he amends himself, but a flicker.
Suddenly, Lucas is turning his head and his eyes meet Eliott's. His laughter peters out, his face falling. Eliott feels all the weight come back as noise, sound returned to the world, and it's exchanged for Lucas's silence. Lucas smiles, a little too wide to be genuine, and he offers a quick apology to his mother before walking up to Eliott.
"You made it!" he says, opening his arms for a hug.
"I did," Eliott mutters, smiling weakly. He accepts Lucas's hug, and his heart almost breaks at how loosely Lucas clings onto him. "I guess you could say I was fashionably late."
"Of course you were," Lucas chuckles. He gestures vaguely at the envelope with the drawing. "Is that for me?"
"It is," Eliott answers, trying to strengthen his smile.
"Just put it right here, then," Lucas invites, nodding his head toward the gift table. "I'll be opening everything in a few minutes."
Eliott checks the envelope, making sure Lucas's name is printed clearly, without tremor. Once he's sure it's the correct one, he places it on top of a small, wrapped box. He looks back over at Lucas, whose gaze has found itself somewhere in the cosmos. And once again, Eliott can't keep himself from staring. He swears the stars themselves appear in Lucas's eyes. He swears a universe lies within them and that's why Lucas gets so lost so often. There's a world inside his mind, bleeding into the irises of his eyes, and he's trapped in there, and Eliott wants something between freeing Lucas from his prison and exploring the place Lucas so often retreats to. But ever since that day at the beach, Eliott's afraid he would've seen that same, blank, star-filled gaze if Lucas's eyes were open as he pulled him to shore that day by the water.
Lucas finds his way back to earth, finds his way back into Eliott's eyes, and Eliott looks down as quickly as he can. He feels like he's 15 again, barely able to look his best friend in the eyes because it fills him with this feeling. A feeling that leaves a tingle in his fingers and toes, a warm blush to his cheeks, and a seed of doubt in the back of his mind. A feeling he's familiar with, a feeling he's known almost as long as he's known Lucas, a feeling he could never quite name.
Love.
"Eliott," Madame Lallemant's soft voice greets. She places her hand on his shoulder, giving him her kind smile. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Lucas walk away. "We're so happy you could make it."
"Thank you, Madame," Eliott smiles back.
"How's your mother?" she asks. "She missed you terribly while you were gone, you know."
"She's very well," he replies. "And I know. I missed her terribly, too. And I missed you and Lucas."
"I've been trying to convince that boy to stop spending so much time with Chloé," she sighs, shaking her head. "You two have barely spent any time together since you got back."
"Do they spend a lot of time together?" Eliott asks nervously. "Him and Chloé?"
"Oh, yes," she answers, almost weary. "They're practically attached at the hip. I want my baby boy to fall in love and be happy, but I worry about them. They're very much in the honeymoon phase, and they're only engaged!"
Eliott's eyes find Lucas again, and he has his arm around Chloé, looking at her like she's the sun, moon, and stars themselves. He kisses her, and they melt into each other. Eliott almost feels sick.
"He needs to be with his friends again," Madame Lallemant continues. "I think it could do him some good. His only company simply can't be only me and his fiancée."
"Is he not going out with Yann or Arthur or anyone?" Eliott asks, puzzled.
"They offer to take him out for lunch or just a day downtown, and he always declines," she sighs. "When they came by to invite him to your birthday party, he turned it down so quickly it almost made me dizzy."
"He did?" Eliott asks weakly, his heart crumbling and sinking down to his feet.
Madame Lallemant looks at him sadly, giving him a sad smile. "He did."
Eliott sighs, looking down at the floor. He bites his lips, wills his tears to stay back.
"Maybe you could talk to him?" Madame Lallemant suggests. "Snap him out of this?"
"I was planning on talking to him, anyway," Eliott replies. "We need to talk."
"Oh, is everything okay with you and Lucas?" she asks worriedly, putting her hand on his shoulder.
Eliott resists the urge to flinch at all the memories. "It's... rough."
"Did something happen?" she asks, carefully this time.
Eliott takes a deep breath, deciding whether to tell Madame Lallemant what happened or not. He opens his mouth, but the sound of someone tapping gently on a glass interrupts him.
"Well, I'd like to thank all of you for coming," Lucas says, projecting his voice across the living room. "Thank you for your company and for taking time out of your night to come celebrate with all of us. I'm going to open all these lovely presents, then we can all converse and mingle some more. Thank you all again."
Light applause ripples throughout the living room. Lucas picks up the first gift he sees from off the table, but Eliott doesn't pay much attention to him.
"We never had parties like this growing up," Eliott whispers to Madame Lallemant. "Was this Chloé's idea?"
Madame Lallemant nods. "Lucas is happy, though. The happiest I've seen him in a while."
He used to be this happy around me, Eliott thinks, resigned.
"Eliott, this one is from you, right?" he hears Lucas ask. He manages a nod and a smile in response. He turns towards Lucas, his heart pounding as he opens up the envelope. He swears he sees a genuine smile tug at the corner of Lucas's lip, but it falls once he unfolds the paper and he sees the drawing. The room is eerily quiet as a thousand emotions haunt Lucas's face. Eliott feels every eye turn to him, but his are focused on Lucas.
"What is it, darling?" Chloé asks, reaching to take it from him.
"Nothing, mon amour," Lucas dismisses, unknowingly sending another dagger digging deeply into Eliott's chest. He quickly folds up the drawing and places it back into the envelope. He turns his gaze to Eliott, his voice falsely sweet as he says, "Thank you, Eliott."
Eliott just nods, letting those same thousand emotions on Lucas's face swirl and mix in his chest into a dangerous poison; green with jealousy, bitter with regret, and thick with hope. Eliott feels like he could choke on it.
But Lucas keeps opening the rest of his gifts, smiling and laughing and showing his gratitude in a way Eliott knows he wouldn't if he was being genuine.
Falsely sweet...
Eliott feels like he could explode. He starts walking away, muttering some sort of excuse to Madame Lallemant. He finds his way to the bathroom, which is thankfully open. He shuts the door behind him, making sure to lock it.
He leans against the door, shutting his eyes and willing his breaths to come in and out of his lungs slowly, calmly.
Breathe, a thousand voices tell him, whispering above the thousand emotions in his chest. Breathe.
But the tears begin to spill, and his mind sees a new, clear sky; gray and dark and soulsucking.
He shouldn't have given Lucas that drawing. The way Lucas's face fell starts playing over and over again in his mind against the storming sky, the way his lips parted in shock, realization, and how the gentle tug at the corner of his lip suddenly went slack, and gravity, the weight of Eliott's mistake pulls it down, almost to his chin. Eliott hurt him in that moment. He's hurt him again, even though he vowed to himself and to Lucas that he would never do that again. Not after he hurt him so badly during his attempt.
When Lucas hurts him, truly hurts him, it's often no more than a scratch or a bruise to him. Their reunion was the first time Eliott felt like Lucas was hurting him so badly he could easily succumb to the wounds. He felt like Lucas had stolen all the breath from his lungs, like he'd ripped out all his guts until he was just an empty shell lying on the beach, like he had his heart in his hand and he was slowly squeezing the life out of it.
But Lucas has felt this way far too many times. And almost all those times were Eliott's fault.
The day that they kissed for the first time, Lucas said that Eliott was the reason he knew his heart was beating for the wrong reasons, that its eyes were blind and it fell in love with the wrong people. And Lucas said he'd spent night after night agonizing over the little, traitorous heart in his chest, the boy sleeping soundly next door. Crying himself to sleep, or not sleeping at all and staring at the ceiling that showed him images of everything he should want, and having to listen to his heart say no, no, no, no, that's not what I want. He would remember all the times his father or the boys at school called him a queer, and he would remember all the times he would deny it. Lucas Lallemant could never be a queer. He couldn't. He would fall to his knees, praying to the god his mother loved so much to give him anything that would make those sinful feelings stop. Lucas told Eliott that one night he prayed and asked God to just kill him. Stop his heart and his breath before he let the temptations wash over him and drown him. Those nights, those prayers were Eliott's fault.
The day Lucas drowned was one of the days Eliott felt unstoppable and so in love with this boy he's loved his entire life. The only thing he could think about that whole episode was a life with Lucas. Smiling and laughing over breakfast, smiling and laughing over lunch, smiling and laughing over dinner. Dancing in the kitchen to the old records their parents used to play in their houses. Swimming in the ocean until their skin gets all pruny and their muscles begin to ache and the salty air starts fogging up their lungs. Kissing each other until they can't breathe. Falling asleep in each other's arms every night. Growing old together, loving every wrinkle and gray hair nevertheless. So, Eliott wanted to spend the whole day with Lucas, running around and letting their laughter echo off the roads, the trees, the old buildings still decimated from the war. They went to the beach lastly, and Lucas was tired, but Eliott insisted they swim for a bit. The water was calm. They would have fun. But as the afternoon wore on, the waters became choppy. A wave swallowed Lucas whole and his soul almost drifted out to sea, towards the horizon. He was dead. It didn't matter if Eliott was able to bring him back. Lucas was dead. And it was Eliott's fault.
The night that was so dark Eliott thought he could ever see light again was the night that Eliott hurt Lucas more than he could ever see, ever understand. He tried to take himself away from him, from his mother, from the world. The water was almost at his waist, the waves cresting at his chest. He was only steps away from drowning. He hopes drowning is like Lucas said it was. The worst panic he'll ever feel in his life, then, the most tranquil calm. Then he'll fall asleep, give himself to the waves. Disappear. He left notes for Lucas and his mother. Everything will be okay. This was the right decision. But, just as water started to lap into his mouth, he hears someone call his name. He turns around, and Lucas is running toward him, slowing down as he approached the water. In a moment of clarity, Eliott could see the pain in Lucas's face. It coaxes him out of the water, away from eternity. Lucas ventures into the water, throwing his arms around Eliott and sobbing. He should've known in that moment that what he tried to would've been the gravest mistake he could've made. But it took two years for him to realize. It took two years of Lucas imagining what would've happened if he had been too late for him to realize. Lucas told him. He told him his worst nightmare. Pulling his body out of the water and not being able to save him. Lucas's drowning was an accident, and Eliott got to him in time. But Eliott's would've been on purpose, and Lucas would've been too late. How could Lucas ever live with that? How could Eliott make him go through something like that?
Eliott realizes that Lucas was right.
There's a knock at the door, and Eliott almost screams as he jumps back. Then his heart nearly stops when he hears a voice say his name.
"I need a minute, Lucas," he chokes out. "Please."
"I can wait," Lucas replies, his voice thin, full of an emotion Eliott can't discern.
Eliott takes a deep breath, wiping away his tears.
"Meet me where the grass ends," Lucas says, almost emotionless. "Okay?"
"Okay."
He hears Lucas's footsteps walk away, and he exhales as slowly as he can.
Breathe.
He unlocks the door, stepping out of the bathroom slowly. He takes another deep breath and walks out the back door. He can see Lucas standing where he said he would be. He must've heard Eliott coming, because he turns towards him. The light from the back porch is just enough to illuminate his face. He's hiding something somewhere in there, and it shows in the way he's biting his lip, as if he were biting back a secret.
Eliott walks forward, his stomach turning and his mouth going dry as he approaches him. There's silence for a moment, and Eliott searches for what Lucas is hiding. But he can't find it. His eyes start to drift to the ground, and he sees a sheet of paper in Lucas's hand. But it's not his drawing. He feels the color drain from his face as he checks his pocket and finds nothing.
"How... How did you get that?" he stammers, his hands beginning to shake.
"My maman said it fell out of your pocket when you ran off," Lucas replies, his voice still void of emotion. "And I've read it."
"And?" Eliott chokes out, looking up at Lucas. The facade has finally cracked. Lucas looks exhausted.
"I don't know what to do, Eliott," he says, sighing wearily.
"I don't know, either," Eliott admits. "I was hoping you would know."
Lucas doesn't reply. He stares back at him, hopeless.
"I'm sorry, Lucas," Eliott tries, his tears coming back.
"For what?" Lucas asks, shaking his head.
Everything, Eliott wants to reply. He wants to cradle Lucas's face in his hands and tell him, Everything! But Lucas speaks before he can do anything.
"The drawing? The letter? Everything that happened before? For what?"
Eliott stuffs his hands in his pockets, trying to keep them from doing what they so desperately want to do. "Everything," he still says.
"Everything?" Lucas repeats, raising his eyebrows. "You have a lot to catch up on, then."
"I know," Eliott sighs.
"Your letter was touching, Eliott," Lucas says. "It really was. But I'm sure you understand that your loyalty isn't as precious to me now as it was when we were younger."
"I do," Eliott agrees. "That's why I want us to talk, Lucas. I told you, I'll talk whenever you're ready to talk."
"I'm not ready to talk yet," Lucas replies, shaking his head. "But I need you to know a few things. Right now."
"Okay," Eliott shrugs. "Tell me, then."
"We can't be... together anymore," Lucas stammers out. "Not like we were before everything happened. I'm in love with Chloé, and I'm going to give her the Christmas wedding she's dreamed of and I'm going to give her everything I have. I was... I was wrong back then. I hadn't met Chloé yet. I'm not a queer. I know now."
Eliott ignores the lump in his throat. "Can I ask you a question then, Lucas?"
Lucas nods, and the hesitance of it stings. "Okay."
"Did you ever love me the way you love Chloé?" Eliott asks, his voice strangled. "Did... Did you ever love me at all?"
Lucas doesn't respond at first, and Eliott can tell he doesn't like the answer he's about to give him. Finally, Lucas says, "I don't think so, Eliott."
Eliott feels a single, hot tear roll down his cheek. His voice is thick as he replies, "Okay."
"And," Lucas begins, but then pauses. He takes a deep breath, then continues, "I'm sorry for what I said when you came home. It was unfair of me. More than unfair. I was angry and in shock and..." He trails off again.
"What?" Eliott asks softly. "Lucas, please tell me."
Eliott sees tears on Lucas's face, too. "In that moment, I wanted to hurt you," he admits, his voice like shattering glass. "And I knew that what I said would hurt you. And I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."
"Then why haven't you talked to me since then?" Eliott asks, his voice a little clearer now. "Why did you turn down the boys' invitation to my party so quickly your maman told her it made her dizzy? Why was you happening to run into me outside the psychiatric office the only reason I was invited to your birthday party? Why did you lie to your fiancée about me not feeling well? My house if right across the street, Lucas. You could've walked over and told me anytime. If you were sorry why didn't you say it before?"
"I don't know," Lucas replies, broken.
Eliott sighs, feeling more defeated than he has in a while. "What else do you want me to know, then?"
Lucas nods, wiping away his tears and gathering himself again. "This is gonna sound stupid now," he mutters, shaking his head. "In your letter, you said that you just wanted to know if I would nurture your loyalty a little longer."
Eliott takes a deep breath, nodding. "And will you?"
Lucas nods again. "I will," he answers. "If you'll let me."
Eliott nods and speaks before he lets himself think. "I'll let you."
Lucas smiles, one of his small, shy ones, and Eliott's tears seem to vanish. "Thank you, Eliott."
Eliott smiles back, small and shy, too. "You're welcome."
Lucas's smile widens, and he looks down at the ground. Eliott used to hate when he did that. He couldn't see Lucas's beautiful smile when he was hiding it like that. Eliott still doesn't like him hiding.
"I guess we'd better get back inside," Lucas says, so nonchalantly it takes Eliott aback.
Eliott pauses, biting his lip. "I'm... I'm gonna go home, Lucas."
"Oh, you are?" Lucas asks, disappointed.
Eliott nods. "I am."
"Can... Can we hug, then?" Lucas asks, cautiously this time.
Eliott nods. "Of course."
Lucas grins and wraps his arm around Eliott, tighter this time. Their sudden height difference is suddenly much more apparent, but it makes Eliott smile a little. He kisses Lucas's forehead, the skin cool and familiar against his lips. "Happy birthday, Lucas," he says into his hair.
He still feels all those emotions swirling in his chest.
"Thank you," Lucas returns. "Goodnight, Eliott."
"Goodnight, Lucas."
Lucas pulls away first, and waves a small goodbye before he walks towards the house.
Once Lucas goes inside, Eliott starts walking, his heart sinking to his feet as slowly as if it were sinking into the depths of the ocean. His steps are heavy with a weight, a grief he can't quite name. And tears are rolling down his cheeks, but not from sadness or devastation, but from a kind of acceptance.
Acceptance. That's the name of the thing slowing him down as he trudges home.
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