Chapter Text
It was raining and it was cold. The wind swept away any attempt he had previously made at taming his stubborn head of hair; everything in nature abides to the law of gravity, but his hair seemed to have missed the memo that day. His under eyes, dark and grey as the day ahead of him, doing the exact opposite, a lover of gravity and her demands.
It was raining and it was cold and it was early. Too early. The sun has barely woken up himself, his rays seem to have only just reached the Earth; the ground still cold and mostly unstepped on. Everything was grey and colorless, and, if a genie materialized right in front of Lucas, his one wish would be to retreat back to his bed, without the consequence of missing his 8 AM biology lecture he otherwise can’t miss. His eyes are barely open, though, and if that did happen, if the rules of the universe and everything he knew and studied was proven to be wrong, if a magical genie actually did appear, he would fail to notice him.
The melancholy he was feeling could probably be attributed to many different things varying in heaviness; from the lack of sleep he has gotten for the past, well, years if he’s honest, to his general anxiety and worry about the future. And past. And everything in between. Sometimes it all feels like too much, like his thoughts are too heavy, too big for his pea sized head; he just wants to scrape them all off, disinfect his brain, give it a good old spring cleaning. Other times, when he succeeds in shutting them out, he manages to shut out everything else, everything good. So he feels nothing whatsoever. He feels too light, too non-existent, as if a slight breeze would blow him away, never to be found again. He doesn’t know which one he detests more.
The rain is only getting more angry, more bitter, like it knows his thoughts and feeds of off them. The little yellow umbrella he’s holding does nothing to shelter him; the wind is rain’s accomplice. Yann is of the philosophy that one’s day is as good as it begins, Lucas remembers as he takes a seat on the bus, full of people just like him. Cold, grey stares - some out the window, some to the people surrounding them - all empty. His day’s about to be quite shit, then.
///
He’s wiping the counter for the umpteenth time in the past 10 minutes, the same number of times he has looked at that old clock behind him. The theory of relativity has managed to prove itself right again. His shift has practically just started; there were many coffees left to be served, counters to be wiped, people to be nice to, before he’s free for the day. The break between his classes and his job at the coffee shop was pretty much non-existent today - the mere minutes he had were spent waiting for the bus and getting on the bus and staring out the window on the bus, wondering how much rain there was still left in those poor clouds hovering above the city of Paris; they must be sick of it, as Lucas is.
Rain was like that friend that was a part of the group and nobody really knows how or why; nobody really liked her - they either pretended they did, or made themselves believe they did. No one in their right mind, Lucas ponders, is actually fond of rain, are they?
Or maybe, he thinks, as he watches a couple outside, holding hands and sharing an ugly purple umbrella, laughing at something with such honesty, honesty that Lucas isn’t even sure he possesses in him, maybe he’s the one in the wrong mind.
///
It’s cold and it’s late, but it isn’t raining anymore; the streets are wet and the scent of everything the rain touched mixed together filling the air as he walked home that night. Yann was probably already there, and it brings a small smile to Lucas’ face. Home wasn’t what it once was; it wasn’t warm hugs from his mother, or gentle hair ruffles from his father. It wasn’t the faint sounds of the piano, and the lingering smell of his dad’s cologne. Those are just mere memories of what home was. Something only the past had possession of, not willing to give it back.
Home now is Yann. Home now is their little apartment in the outskirts of Paris. Home now is the sound of Fifa and the smell of the bakery just besides their building and it’s Yann’s hugs when everything becomes a bit too much. It’s the occasional visit from Arthur or Basile or Emma or Imane. Eating takeout on the floor, and drinking too much sometimes, and pouring their hearts out in the early hours of the A.M, waking up with a headache and hearts just a little lighter. Lucas wonders just how long he can call all of this home before it inevitably gets ripped away from his hands; before his home finds another home. All of his friends, they seem to be going somewhere, having goals and reaching them, one by one. It’s only a matter of time before they have their own families and jobs and bills to take care of, and adulthood stands in between them with its chest puffed and arms spread.
It’s only a matter of time before Lucas gets left behind.
///
“Honey, I’m home!” Lucas yells, as he takes of his shoes and his jacket, breathing in the familiar scent of their apartment. He could never pin down what it was exactly, a mixture of everything, he guessed. When he mentioned it to Yann once, he just shrugged and said something along the lines of “Dude, I think you have superhuman sense of scent, or something. You should probably get that checked out.”
He walks in to a familiar sight, one he has seen too many times to count. His best friend laying on the sofa, a controller in his hands, a look of utter frustration on his face. The moment Lucas stepped in, Yann put down his controller and averted his attention to him.
“Hey, haven’t seen you all day, man. You hungry?” he says, as Lucas sits down on the couch, the weight of his exhaustion finally getting to him, pressing into his body and leaving him almost immobile. One of these days he’ll turn in to a statue.
“Yeah, starving. Wanna order pizza?”, he throws a glance at the clock on the wall, which, he only now realizes, resembles the one at his work way too much; the frame is virtually the same, and it’s hands are way too loud as well, as if they’re making the passage of time itself louder, more real.
“We need a new clock”, he adds, without having heard Yann’s response to the pizza preposition.
“What?” Yann’s eyes, laced with confusion, join Lucas’ in the clock inspection. “What’s wrong with our clock?”
“It’s 2019, Yann, who still has an analog clock? And besides, it’s ugly as shit.”
“Excuse you, it was a gift from my mother dearest,” Yann says, feigning offense. “Anyway, fuck the clock. We’re going out tonight.”
“Absolutely not.” Lucas says, yawning loudly, at first faking it to make a point, before it turned into an actual yawn, making him even more tired than before. The brain really is easy fooled, huh.
“I’ve been up since 7, and haven’t had a break all day. I’d probably pass out.”
Yann gives him a stern look. “Come on, you old man, you’re 20, not 40. Plus, you promised last weekend you would go out with us! It’s Friday, and it’s only 9 p.m.”
“Where would we even go”, Lucas says, thinking back to when exactly he had promised such a foolish thing. Fridays were his Hell Days, an actual title he had given them, and his Friday night plans were always simple, non-demanding, and never more elaborate than watching a really intense show, like Black Mirror or something.
“Just some bar I’ve been to a couple of times, it’s pretty chill actually. Low-key. We’re just gonna grab some beer and hang out. Come on, you little bitch.” Yann ruffles his hair, as if the poor thing didn’t get enough unwanted attention from the weather today.
Lucas ponders over his options. He could stay here, binge on some food and a tv show he’ll spend an hour just choosing, sulk and feel bad for himself, try and inevitably fail to fall asleep at a normal hour.
Or he could go, grab a few beers with his best mates and catch up with them. It’s not like he’s going clubbing or anything. “Yeah, fine. But you’re paying for the drinks.”
///
“You’re not allowed to describe things anymore.” Lucas says to Yann, as he eyes the enormous crowd of dancing bodies in front of them. They’re by the counter, having somehow managed to swing past a swarm of people, hundreds of them, in a bar so small Lucas wondered how they had managed to all fit in. “There’s nothing chill or low-key about this.” he continues, a bit taken aback by the overstimulation of his senses. The music was loud, thumping through his body as though he had swallowed it. The mixture of alcohol and sweat filled the room, making him feel intoxicated already. The lights were a bit too scintillating, too intense. Lucas didn’t mind crowds, or parties, but today was one of those days where it didn’t matter what he minded or didn’t mind, his brain seemed to take offense to everything.
“Yeah dude, didn’t you say this place was more relaxed? Not that I’m complaining, though, I’ve never seen this many hot girls in one place” Arthur says, as he takes a sip of his beer.
“Agreed. I’m so getting laid tonight, boys” Basile looks overjoyed, like a child in a candy store. Lucas rolls his eyes.
“Sure, dude. Because it’s the lack of girls that’s usually the problem” Arthur pats him on the back, half jokingly, half genuinely comforting. A summary of their friendship, Lucas supposes.
“I swear,” Yann begins, looking at Lucas a bit apprehensively, “The last time I was here there were like, 30 people at most. Don’t know what’s up with tonight.”
Lucas scans the crowd. Everyone was drunk, or on their way to being drunk; lost in the music or the alcohol or each other. Lucas used to be one of them, not too long ago.
“Oh well, we’re already here. Let’s make most of it, shall we boys?” Arthur smiles, and raises his glass in the air.
“Cheers,” they all say, and Lucas gulps the beer as if the bottom of the glass will give him the answers to the universe. He really doesn’t want to be here. Yann’s philosophy might hold some truth.
///
“Guys, guys, guys, guys,” Arthur appears after an hour of chatting up some girl, while simultaneously being a wingman to Basile, whose flirting attempts were as shoddy as ever. Yann and Lucas stayed back, mostly drinking and attempting to converse, but ultimately failing because of the loud music vibrating among them. So much for catching up.
They turn towards Arthur, who seemed a bit too excited. “You’re not gonna believe this. Turns out, the reason it’s so packed is because some famous actor is here tonight. Once the fangirls found out, they came here in hopes of meeting him, I guess.”
Ah. So that explains... everything. Jeez, shouldn’t actors go to some fancy clubs with VIP lounges, and leave places like this to the ordinary folk? There goes Lucas’ brain, being annoyed at everything. He really should have stayed at home tonight.
“Really? Which actor?” Yann asks excitedly, scanning the crowd as though he could make out anybody. They all seem like a blur of bodies stuck together, not as individual people.
“Eliott Demaury? I’m not sure who he is, he’s on the rise or something, stars in some new popular tv show. Apparently, he’s really hot.”
“Oh, yeah, I've heard of him. I’ve seen him everywhere these days. Isn’t he like a model, as well?” Yann says.
“You think we could find him and take a picture with him? Might come in handy with the ladies ” Basile adds, because of course he does. Lucas is so over everything.
“Sure, Bas, he’s probably swarmed with hot girls as we speak, but he’s going to step aside and take a picture with you.”
Lucas tuned out after that, not really paying attention. God, he needs a cigarette. And fresh air. And room to move his limbs without coming in contact with other people. “Hey, I’m just gonna go to the bathroom real quick.” he says, as he starts heading towards the exit.
He stumbles his way through the crowd, bumping into everyone on his way, not really caring anymore, before finally making his way outside.
It’s cold, and it’s quiet. The only sounds are the faint music heard from the inside of the bar, and the occasional car passing by. He takes a deep breath. The stars are a bit more vivid and luminous than usual, and the moon is full. Seconds pass, or maybe minutes; he doesn’t have that damn clock with him to remind him of their passage, and he feels a bit less suffocated.
He takes out the cigarette and lights it up; the smoke is burning through his nose and lungs, stimulating him from the inside, reminding him that there’s something underneath his skin. He leans against the wall behind him, and closes his eyes. Tries to concentrate on his heart beating.
One, two, three, four... A heart beats around 115,000 times a day. He wonders how many he has left. A lot, probably, the day has just begun. It’s only 2 am.
...eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty one- He hears the door open, and footsteps heading towards him.
Twenty two, twenty three, twenty four-
“Hi.” He opens his eyes and looks to the source of his interruption.
Blue. Blue was all he could see, even in the dimly lit alley they were located on. The boy’s eyes weren’t blue. Blue was the boy’s eyes. It took Lucas about 5 heart beats to respond.
“Hi,” is all he could muster up.
“Do you,” the boy pauses, and licks his lips, probably as a matter of habit. It’s the most attractive habit Lucas has ever seen. “Do you happen to have a cigarette, I ran out” Blue asks, a bit tentatively, almost shyly, but at the same time with such confidence, that Lucas wonders how such a contradiction could even exist, and why it’s so attractive.
“Sure,” he replies, as he takes out the pack from his pocket. He hands it to the stranger, his heart getting louder as he comes closer; every beat forcing him to become hyper aware of its existence. He still prefers it to the ticking of the clock.
“Thanks,” the stranger smiles, and Lucas just might be hallucinating all of this. “It’s really crowded in there, huh?” Blue continues, not taking his eyes off of Lucas.
“Yeah, it got a bit too much for me. It’s because of some famous dude or something,” Lucas tries to sound casual, he does, but the guy’s stare is so intense, he feels it even when he looks away.
“Really?” Blue moves, mirroring Lucas’ position of leaning against the wall. His shoulder is ever so lightly touching Lucas’, who’s looking up at the moon like it’s the most fascinating sight he has ever seen.
“Yeah, some actor, I think. Can’t remember his name. Only found out about it when we got here. What’s a famous actor even doing here, right?” He turns towards Blue again, and nope. Shouldn’t have done that. His eyes seem to be the only color Lucas has seen all day; everything before appeared to be grey and colorless.
The boy was still smirking, “Right. Ruining the night for the rest of us.”
“Exactly,” Lucas smiled at him. “Fuck the actor guy.”
“Fuck the actor guy!”, Blue repeats, echoing Lucas’ words. They’re smiling at each other so vehemently, and Lucas wonders if he encountered an angel. He doesn’t really believe in god, being a man of science and all, but hey, who knows. Maybe the old man took pity on him, and sent one of his best to cheer him up a bit. He looks up at the sky, trying to get an answer. Alas, the universe just shrugged and revealed its indifference.
“I’m Lucas, by the way”, he says after a while. Do angels even have human names?, he thinks to himself.
“Eliott.” the boy says, shaking Lucas’ hand, warmth spreading over his entire body, “I’m Eliott.”
I guess they do.
///
“So, Lucas, want to get out of here?” Blue, or, Eliott, says after putting out his cigarette.
“Where to?” Lucas asks, having already made a decision, probably before the question was even asked.
“Anywhere. As far away from this place and that actor guy,” He smiles, “Hungry?”
“I could eat.” Lucas smiles back, pushing himself of the wall.
If a day is as good as it begins, this one seems promising.
///
They’re sitting on a bench, or, more precisely, it’s backrest, a greasy pizza in their hands, conversation flowing from one thing to another so quickly.
“So, Lucas,” The guy could probably say nothing but his name repeatedly for the rest of the night, and Lucas would be content. “Tell me something about yourself.” He says, as he chews on his half eaten slice.
Oh god, here it goes. Lucas’ least favorite part of getting to know someone. The part where they learn just how boring he truly is.
Where should he start? From his fucked up family he doesn’t keep in touch with anymore, not really. Or from describing, in precise detail, why he deems himself a failure, why he feels like he isn’t truly living, like life is just dragging him along from one situation to the next? Which is going to make Eliott run away faster?
So, he blurts out the first thing his mind offers him.
“I hate the rain.”
“What?” Eliott chuckles.
“I despise it,” he counties, “If I could, I’d make it illegal.”
“Why? What’s it ever done to you?” Eliott says, the pizza now resting in his lap, his attention fully directed at Lucas, like he has said the most interesting yet controversial statement the other has ever heard. He’s not used to this much spirit of inquiry coming from someone who’s not Yann. “Is it because it ruins your pretty hair?” He cheekily adds, touching a strand of Lucas’ hair so delicately, one would think it would turn to dust the moment he let go of it.
“Fuck no. You think I care about my hair?” He asks, pointing at it, at its disorder, trying to ignore the ‘pretty’ part of the boy’s question. Said disorder is solely the result of the weather; he cares about his hair deeply, if truth be told, even if the feeling isn’t mutual - his hair seems to be in a constant state of disagreement with him. Eliott doesn’t need to know that, though.
“Oh I think you do” he winks, and Lucas wonders for a split second what he has done to be in the vicinity of such a being. “So what is it, then?”
“Dunno. Nothing in particular, I guess. It’s just annoying”,and then, “You know, my mother used to tell me all the time that rain was god’s and his angels’ tears.” He doesn’t know where that came from. His mom is never the topic of conversation if he has any say in its direction.
“Really? Do you believe in that?”
“Fuck no. I mean, not anymore, of course.” he smirks. “But I used to, when I was a child. I would be so sad every time it rained, I’d wonder what reason god had to cry. If he’s so sorrowful, something really bad must be happening, right?”, he looks at Eliott, his eyes so attentive. He nods.
“So I’d ask her if there was anything we could do, to make him happy again,” he carries on, “but she’d always respond with ‘if you were to comfort god, you’d have to take his place.’ ”
“Deep right?” he smiles at him, wondering who this guy is, and what about him makes Lucas so comfortable in talking about stuff he rarely allows himself to even think about. His childhood, even in its most untroubled and rapturous moments, isn’t something he likes to dwell on too much.
“Yeah. Your mom sounds quite enthralling.” Eliott says after a small pause. Lucas stays silent.
“So is that why you hate the rain?”
Is it? Lucas doesn’t think so. Rain was just a result of condensation and atmospheric water vapor and gravity. It has nothing to do with a bearded man in the sky who wasn’t feeling up to par that day.
“Nah.” he smiles, turning towards the other boy again, “I lied. It totally is because of my hair.”
Eliott laughs. The remnants of it echoes through the air and Lucas’ entire body. “I quite like it, actually.” Eliott says after a few moments of silence. “The rain. It’s nice.” He looks up, as though the rain will come just with that one look, just to please Eliott’s wishes. Lucas wouldn’t blame it.
In that moment, it felt like this was all there was. Just Lucas, Eliott, and the moon. Lucas used this moment to study the way Eliott’s hair wasn’t a fan of gravity as well, going in all directions, dissonant but harmonious at the same time. He studied the way his lips curved, the way his eyes seemed to drink in everything they rested upon with such intensity and fervor.
“Why?” Lucas asked, after a few heart beats.
He ponders for a moment. “I don’t know. It’s comforting, I guess. The way each drop kind of magnifies and alters the scenery it touches. Rain has a power to bring change, even if just for a short while. It’s cool.”
“Damn. Your justification is better than mine.”
Eliott smiles. “You up for some coffee? I have this intense need for coffee all of a sudden.”, as he stands up from the bench.
Wow, this guy is good at transitions.
“Sure. I know a place.”
///
The walk there is short, a couple of minutes at most. The streets are empty, the night is at its peak.
The coffee shop he works at is a place near the college campus, its main target being tired students in need of a place to grab a cheap coffee in between classes during the day, and study during the long hours of the night; it’s open 24 hours and it’s a perfect place for endeavors such as this one.
The smell of coffee and warmth wafts over them as they enter, and Lucas feels strange being here not for a shift.
“Yo Lucas! What’re you doing here? Missed your job too much?” Alexia smiles at him from across the counter. Eliott gives him a bit of a confused look, and Lucas grins at him before making his way towards her. “Why of course. I long for this place,” he looks around, the old clock catching his eyes the most, “the moment I leave it.” He says, sarcasm laced in his voice. Eliott stands a bit behind him, his presence affecting Lucas like gravity. He doesn’t feel it directly, but its impact is as present as ever.
Alexia moves her eyes towards his companion, and falters a bit. Her mouth slightly agape, a mix of confusion and shock written over her features. Lucas seemed to forget that the boy beside him possessed inhuman beauty, which was probably even more blinding in the shop’s lights. But still, Alexia could do with a bit more subtlety. He turns to him with an apologetic look, when Alexia coughs, seeming to make her way back to reality.
“So, what can I get you?” She smiles, looking at Lucas like she’s searching for an answer to a question unasked.
“Um,” he looks at Eliott, who kept his gaze down, “I’ll just have a black coffee. You?”
“I’ll have a caramel latte. With extra caramel, please.” He smiles at Alexia, seeming to be done with his fascination with the floor.
“Coming right up!” She smiles and turns around. “Seriously? With extra caramel?” Lucas teases, turning towards Eliott.
“What? I like a bit of sweetness in my life, mister ‘I drink nothing but black coffee because I’m cool and mysterious like that’ “
“Shut up.” Lucas rolls his eyes. They collect their orders in comfortable silence; the loud clock on the wall, which usually mocks him with its clamour, was left unnoticed.
///
They’re sitting in a corner near a window; rain made its appearance once again, perhaps they summoned it with their conversation earlier, Lucas thinks. He doesn’t seem to mind it right now though, the soft sound it makes against the window pane bringing comfort, a background noise to their conversation in an otherwise almost empty coffee shop. There’s only one student there, studying vigorously in the opposite corner. Again, Lucas thinks, it seems like this is all there is. Eliott, him, and now the rain.
“So, what about you?” Lucas asks, after a slight lull in the conversation, “Tell me something about yourself”
“Hmm,” Eliott says, as he sips on his extra caramel caramel latte. It does seem delicious, Lucas admits to himself and himself only.
“What do you want to know?”
“Anything. I’m sure nothing you say could be as interesting as my repugnance at the rain, but still,” he smiles, “doesn’t hurt to try”
Eliott laughs, and Lucas wishes he could somehow bottle his laughter in a jar, for him to keep. Then, he seems to ponder for a moment, squinting his eyes as if that will speed up his thoughts.
“I love raccoons.” he says after a few moments.
Lucas snorts. “Raccoons? That’s...quite odd”
“Thanks,” Eliott smiles. “I’m sure you mean it as a compliment”, he jokes.
“Of course,” Lucas says, “I’m rather fond of Odd”
“Me too.”
“So, why raccoons?”
“I don’t know, they’re pretty cool, I guess. Did you know they’re one of the most intelligent animals? Sometimes, I feel like they know much more than any of us.” He pauses for a moment. “Plus, they wear masks”, he smirks.
“You do kind of look like one, to be honest,” Lucas says, mostly as an excuse to inspect Eliott's face some more, trying to catch as many details as he could, as he takes the last sip of his coffee. It’s bitter. Maybe he should experiment more with his coffee choices.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Don’t know what it is exactly. You just have the vibe.”
“I’ll take it.”
///
It’s well after 5 A.M and they’re walking the streets of Paris as if they’re visiting it for the first time. Lucas was all too familiar with the sights in front of them; he passes them every day. However, everything seemed different, as though the atoms that make them up altered under their gaze; It’s as if Eliott’s presence was somehow responsible for the change - just like rain.
Time seemed to have left them alone, the only indication of its passage being the slight brightening of the sky, its tones and hues just a bit more vivid and vibrant than before.
They talked of nothing and everything. Of heavy and light, of bright and dark. Lucas wonders if, when the Sun wakes, Eliott will evaporate into thin air; if he’s just a part of Lucas’ imagination or some messed up prank by God himself. Maybe he’s not an angel, Lucas thinks, maybe he’s a demon, sent to give Lucas the strangest, yet the best night of his life - just to vanish right after, never to be seen again; leaving him with only a memory of him, becoming just another one of the past’s belongings.
He shakes his head. The lack of sleep can really add weight to his already messed up thoughts. He looks at Eliott.
In another universe, one where Lucas isn’t so frightened and lost, one where he allows himself to feel each emotion without giving it a meaning or worrying about its after affect. In that universe, his heart leads the way, it knows how to love. In that universe, Eliott is his to keep.
But in this one, Lucas thinks as they say their goodbyes, looking at each other as if they’re searching for something, something unsaid, in this one he lets go.
Later that morning, sleep gently kisses his forehead and dreams pay him a visit. They’re full of rain and soft smiles.
///
Message from: Alexia, 9:43 A.M.
Care to explain why you were just casually grabbing a coffee at 3 am with Eliott fucking Demaury?!?!