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Chapter Text

Lucas tried to focus on the sunset with its cotton candy clouds and warm sky, but he really didn't want to be where he was right now. He was at the annual school "film festival," sitting on a worn picnic blanket Mika had scrounged up from his closet. Every other blanket had groups of four and five sitting on them, but Lucas was by himself, fiddling with loose and fraying threads. He checked his phone, hoping his friends had sent him an encouraging text or something, but he didn't have any notifications at all. He sighed and turned off his phone.

He looked up and saw the film teacher, Mademoiselle Moreau, chatting to a group of students. Mlle. Moreau held a small festival showcasing students' movies every year. She must be talking to all the kids that submitted movies. Lucas could picture her saying things like, "I'm so proud of you," or "everyone will love it!" He appreciated how kind she was, but the criticism rarely seemed genuine. She's too nice to give any negative feedback.

The only reason Lucas was here is because this year Mlle. Moreau offered extra credit to everyone who attended the festival. He had heard the turn out was never strong in previous years. Lucas guessed she just wanted everyone who was "brave enough to show their hard work" to get more attention and praise. But it didn't matter to him too much. He needed the extra points to keep his grade up. He only took film because he had already taken creative writing and he thought he could appreciate that aspect of the movies they watched. He thought learning how to write a screenplay would be useful, too. But Lucas got frustrated just watching things happening and wondering how they're described in the script. While a movie may have witty dialogue sometimes, nothing compared to Lucas how writers can take the most mundane thing and use words to make it sound beautiful. 

Every time there was a mini group project, Lucas always wrote the script. But that was frustrating, too, because he felt like there's no use dressing his words up if no one would read them anyway. Any word he wrote would just turn into an image, and that's what the audience would see. He certainly didn't think he was an expert writer, but he knew he was talented enough that he didn't want his words lost in a picture. Even if the picture looked pretty, Lucas still far preferred words. Besides, screenplays required a very specific format that Lucas found confusing and pointless.

"Lucas?" Daphne's voice rang out nearby.

He blinked, coming out of his trance. She was walking towards him, Imane, Manon, Alexia, and Emma trailing behind. He offered them a smile, moving over a bit so they could sit on his blanket. "You guys are here, too?"

"We came last year and we loved it," Daphne replied, chipper. "It's so amazing to see a bigger crowd this year."

"You're here for the extra credit, aren't you?" Imane asked suddenly, blunt and cutting as ever.

Lucas felt a little wounded, but knew there wasn't any use lying to her. "Yeah, I am."

Imane nodded, smiling bitterly. Meanwhile, the other girls reacted nervously and awkwardly.

Daphne gave him an incredulous look. "Lucas!"

He shrugged, playing with stray threads again. "Sorry, Daphy. Films aren't really my thing. And, who knows, maybe I'll enjoy it and come back next year."

"I think you'll like it, Lucas." Manon reassured.

"Yeah, Alex told me they have some really talented kids submitting movies this year," Emma added. "He's super excited." 

"Didn't that really hot, new kid submit one for this year?" Alexia asked. "I think his name's Eliott or something like that."

"Yeah, I think Alex mentioned him," Emma nodded. "I'm pretty sure his is animated."

Lucas's eyebrows shot up. "Whoa, really? Isn't that a ton of work?"

"Yeah, but I've heard he's really good at it. Everyone in his class says it'll be a crying shame if he doesn't get into a really good film school."

Mlle. Moreau claps loudly, the group of students she was talking to dispersing and finding their friends. 

"Hey, isn't that Eliott right there?" Alexia asked, pointing.

Lucas followed her gaze and saw Eliott bounding to a crowded blanket. Lucas's heart nearly stopped. Eliott's lightish hair fell in his face, but he brushed it back with elegant fingers. A sweet smile graced his face as he was greeted with cheers from his friends. It was small, but bright, like a candle or a firefly. His eyes squinted as his smile reached his cheeks. Everything about him was warm, homely. 

Lucas's heart started beating normally again, but something inside him told him it would never be the same again. Eliott was hot. 

Maybe Lucas was meant to come here tonight.

"Lucas, do you want to sit with us? You looked lonely sitting here by yourself earlier." Manon asked sweetly. "We have plenty of room on our blanket."

Lucas really liked the girls. They were easy to talk to and fun to hang out with. Why not? he thought. He nodded. "Sure. Thank you."

He quickly folded up his blanket and followed the girls to theirs. He risked a look back at Eliott, who was sitting in the back. For the briefest moment, Eliott looked at Lucas, too.

He was too far away for Lucas to tell what color his eyes were, but his heart fluttered and his brain told him to just look away. So he did.

Mlle. Moreau stood at the front with a microphone, waiting for everyone to get situated. She looked proud, happy.

"Welcome, everyone, to our fifth annual film festival!" she paused as everyone applauded. "I started this little event my first year teaching here, and it's become a beloved tradition. I am overjoyed to see so many faces this year, and that you all get to see the outstanding talent we have to showcase tonight. First up, we have a project from Eliott Demaury. If you could please come up and share some details about your project with us?"

As everyone started applauding again, Eliott stood up. He gave everyone little waves as he made his way to the front of the makeshift outdoor theater. He took the microphone and cleared his throat. He seemed to freeze for a moment, his eyes panicked as they scanned the crowd. He smiled, then spoke.

"I'm sorry if I seem nervous. Anyway, my film is called Polaris. It's about two star-crossed lovers who cannot truly love each other until both of them face their fears. It's about how love conquers all, and how love can come in any possible form. It's more of a rough draft, but I hope you enjoy it."

He hooked the microphone back to the stand and walked back. Mlle. Moreau was on her laptop, pulling up Eliott's movie. Slowly, the projector came to life and the image splashed on the screen.

Sure enough, it was animated, and in black and white. A young boy walked down a forest trail, the sun shining down on him. Slow, soft piano music played in the background. He came across a dark tunnel, and stopped in his tracks. He turned around gazed back up at the sun, admiring the whole sky. He sat down, but the dark tunnel loomed ominously behind him. It seemed to grow bigger and bigger, as if it would swallow him whole.

"Hello?" a disembodied voice murmured, startling the first boy. He jumped up, scanned the surrounding woods for the person who spoke, but he couldn't see anyone.

Suddenly, the screen is dark. A little light comes in, and a figure appears. Their head was smooth and bald, their skin was like silver. Their eyes searched the world beyond their dark tunnel. They never got too close to the light. 

"Who was that?" the boy asked, his voice afraid and timid.

"I'm right here." the figure responded, a little louder. "I'm inside the tunnel."

"Do you live in the dark?" the boy questioned, inching a little closer to the tunnel. 

"Well, I'm afraid of the light."

"Afraid of the light? Don't all living things need light?"

"Not necessarily. I think all living things need a bit of darkness, too."

"I'm afraid of the dark," the boy admitted shyly.

"Oh," the figure simply said.

The shot changed to a view from the middle, the darkness to the left and the sunlight to the right. Approaching the center was the figure and the boy.

"We're completely different, you and I, aren't we?" the boy said. "Polar opposites."

"I don't think so," the figure replied. "It's just that you're afraid of the dark and I'm afraid of the light. We just have opposing fears." 

The boy smiled. "You're right."

Lucas watched, amazed and moved, as the two discussed their fears. How light is never whole, there's always some darkness. How your eyes always adjust to the dark eventually. How there's different kinds of light and some are more beautiful than others. How light is always warm and comforting. 

Suddenly, the boy and the figure are staring at each other through the veils of their worlds. The figure reached out and their hands swam through the darkness into the light. They winced a little, but smiled. The light was warm. The boy grabbed the figure's hands, shivered from the brief cold of the dark. He smiled, too. The figure's hands are warm.

They leaned in, their faces inches apart, and they kissed. The music swelled, violins soaring and piano keys crashing joyfully.

Lucas suddenly realized he was crying. He wiped away his tears furiously, refusing to think about what would happen if any of the girls saw him cry. Luckily, they didn't see, as far as he knew. 

The screen went black, and one last note plays. Applause erupted, people cheered and stood on their feet.

Lucas forced back his tears and joined the applause. Eliott made his way back up to the front, blushing furiously. He gave a small bow, meek and quick. Mlle. Moreau gave him a tight hug and whispered something in his ear. He smiled, nodded, then made his way back to his friends.

Lucas watched Eliott, feeling his heart beating harder than it ever has. A tear somehow slipped past his defenses, but he was quick to wipe it away. He wondered if he could find Eliott after the festival was over and talk to him about his movie. The first movie that ever made Lucas cry.

Stop, his mind told him, quiet but utterly commanding. Stop.

Mlle. Moreau tapped the microphone lightly, shushing the audience. "What an astounding start to the night! Thank you so much, Eliott, for your bravery and talent. Next up is a short, comedic film by Anaïs LeBlanc."

"I feel bad for everyone having to follow up on that," Manon whispered. "They should have saved that for last."

"It was all right," Imane said, blinking away tears.

"Oh, come on," Alexia laughed. "We see you crying, Imane."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Imane denied, smiling. She wiped away a tear. "Fine. It was beautiful."

Whoever Anaïs LeBlanc was went up to the front and explained that her movie was a modern take on a 1920s era silent film, filled with slapstick comedy and little stillframes with subtitles on them so you knew what the characters were saying. The plot focused on a group of teenagers reeling to clean up and leave after getting caught partying.

As the next movie started, Lucas knew he wouldn't be able to pay much attention. He kept trying to steal glances at Eliott. And he couldn't stop thinking about that movie. The black and white, the animation, the music, the story... Nothing had ever touched him like this before. How could this random, transfer student have such an effect on him? 

Stop it!

The event dragged on as the sky grew darker. There was a drama about a girl falling in love with her best friend, a short documentary about life at their school, another comedy set fifty years in the future, and finally, another drama about a boy who never grew out of having imaginary friends. Lucas thought they were all pretty good (the futuristic comedy was weird, though) but nothing could compare to Eliott's. He almost needed to talk to him about it. Just one quick conversation. That was all he needed.

What are you doing? What are you thinking?

"Do you think we should go talk to that Eliott kid?" Daphne asked the group. 

"I think we should at least tell him we liked his movie." Manon replied. "We don't need to have a full conversation with him."

Lucas felt himself begin to panic. The voice in his head told him to not bother Eliott and just leave. He didn't want to listen to that voice.

"I don't know," Emma started. "I feel like we would only add to all the addition. And people can only take so much of it. The poor guy seems terrified."

Lucas began to panic even more. The voice got a little louder. No, Lucas thought to himself. I can't listen to you.

"Lucas seems terrified, too," Imane blurted out, giving him an odd look. "What's up with you?"

"What?" Lucas replied, trying to act natural. "No, I'm fine. Thanks."

Imane and Alexia shared a look that Lucas was almost sure he was supposed to see.

"I don't know about you guys," Emma said, standing up. "But I'm gonna head out. Maybe if I see him in the hallway at school I'll say something."

"I think I will, too," Manon agreed. "Are you coming, Lucas?"

"No, I think I'll stay. I'll talk to him once the crowds die down." Lucas replied, glancing at Eliott again.

"And what if he leaves before then?" Imane asked.

Lucas shrugged. He didn't think about that. Listen to them. "I'll find him some other time."

"Then what's the point of staying?" Imane countered. 

"Well, wh-what if I want to stay?" Lucas answered, knowing it sounded lame. "What if I never see him again?"

"All right." Daphne shrugged, but still giving him a strange look. The other girls nodded, said their goodbyes, then walked off.

Lucas let himself sigh in relief. He wondered what the boys would have said if they went with him. They probably would have made a gay joke or something and teased him about it for five minutes. He loved his friends, but he hated when they tried to pull something like that. Calling him gay, pointing out guys they think he would hook up with. It made him feel terrible. They sounded like that voice in his head sometimes. So what if he's gay? But maybe he isn't? Lucas doesn't quite know himself. Maybe he's too afraid to admit it to himself.

He looked back over at Eliott, and his heart started beating faster again. The crowd around him was starting to die off, so he decided to go ahead and make his way over. The voice told him to stop, so he tried his best to turn it off.

"How long did that take you to make, man?" someone asked. 

"Um, since August, I think. Late August or early September." Eliott replied. 

"Almost a year?!" someone else chimed in.

Eliott nodded. "Animation takes a while. It takes a couple of years to make full, animated movies. Mine was only fifteen minutes, tops. Then again, I probably put in a bit more work than I probably needed to."

Lucas smiled to himself. Eliott seemed really passionate yet really humble. He was nervous answering everyone's questions, but kept a smile on his face. He shoved his hands into his pockets, listened carefully to everyone's questions. 

Lucas couldn't stop noticing things about Elliot. The way his eyes—a misty blue, Lucas realized—always maintained contact with someone else's, how he would occasionally tilt his head to hear someone better. He always seemed to rock back and forth on his heels. Every little thing was making Lucas fell even more in love with him. He tried to act normal, but thankfully no one was paying attention to him.

A small group left, leaving Lucas and Eliott alone. Lucas began to panic. He was alone with Eliott. His tongue was suddenly tied, his hands were suddenly sweaty. He took a step closer to him, smiling nervously. The voice began to nag, but it spoke barely above a whisper.

"Hey," Eliott greeted. "I don't think I know you." He held his hand out, and Lucas had trouble not staring at it.

"Lucas," he replied, shaking Eliott's hand. His grip was strong, and his hand was warm. "Lucas Lallemant. I'm in one of Mlle. Moreau's classes."

"Ah, you're here for the extra credit." Eliott nodded. 

"Oh, well, see I was, then I saw your movie and I was just blown away. Like, I thought this would be kinda lame but then your movie was so good! I loved everything about it and I may or may not have teared up a bit, and I just had to let you know how much I enjoyed it. I mean, I'm not a huge film person. I'm only taking the class since I already took creative writing and I needed an elective. This is like the first movie I really, really enjoyed. And I really appreciate all the effort you put into it, man."

Oh, no, I'm rambling again.

"Oh, wow, thank you," Eliott replied, giggling but obviously flattered. "That's why I want to do films, actually. I want to make movies everyone can relate to or enjoy. And writing is super important for movies. You wouldn't have a movie without a script."

Lucas shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."

"What do you write, usually?" Eliott asked.

Lucas froze again. "Um, I've been writing, like, little novels and short stories since I was a kid. But I've been dabbling in poetry lately."

"No screenplays? You've been learning how to write those in the class, right?"

"It's a format I'm not quite used to, to be honest. It's out of my comfort zone." Lucas shrugged.

"Well, writing isn't really my strong suit. I really struggled with the script for this, actually. I had the idea but I couldn't quite express it how I wanted to. Maybe you could help me out? Give me some tips?"

Lucas swore his heart literally stopped. He didn't think he could speak without screaming.

"Like, I'm planning on sending Polaris to colleges and I want it to be as polished as possible, you know?" Eliott continued. "I'm assuming you're pretty good at what you do."

Lucas let out a laugh. "Yeah, I've had some experience."

"Send me a couple of your favorite poems you've written," Eliott offered. "Or maybe a short story or two. I wanna see what you can do. Then I'll think about it. Deal?"

Eliott held out his hand again, and Lucas's heart rate went through the roof. He flashed a smile and shook Eliott's hand.

"Deal."

"Sick! Let me give you my number."

Lucas was starting to worry that his heart would fly out of his chest. He quickly grabbed his phone and opened his contacts. 

They swapped phones and gave each other their number. Lucas's hands were shaking so badly he could barely type. 

Lucas looked up and saw Eliott giving him back his phone, smiling the sweetest, warmest smile. Suddenly, all his nerves and panic went away. The voice went away. Lucas managed to smile back. They took back their phones, and Eliott looked like he was wanting to leave.

But Lucas wanted to talk to Eliott until he couldn't speak anymore. 

"I'd better get going," Eliott said. "It was nice meeting you, Lucas. I'm so happy my movie could have such a big impact on you. Take care."

The next thing Lucas knew, Eliott was hugging him. His breath caught in his throat, then he hugged Eliott back. He smelled like cinnamon, strong yet warm and comforting. It was a lot like the way he was hugging Lucas right now. He didn't want Eliott to let him go.

When Eliott pulled away, he gave Lucas a wave and another smile. Then, he walked away, practically bouncing.

Lucas stared at him for a while, feeling almost invincible.

He was in love, wasn't he?

That night, Lucas decided to write in his notebook. He had gotten it for his birthday last year from his mom. It was simple; a spiral-bound notebook with wide-ruled paper and a dark blue plastic cover. But he loved it. He had told his mom he didn't want her going overboard, but she still gave him something meaningful. On the inside cover was a little blank sticker with a note on it.

This may be your thousandth notebook, but I can't wait to see what you'll write in this one. Happy birthday, Lucas. Love, Mom.

His relationship with his mother was complicated. He knew she loved him, and he loved her, too, but everything changed after his dad left. Suddenly him and his mom were arguing more, ignoring each other, avoiding each other. He didn't know how to help her. After he moved out, he felt so relieved to be away from the pressure of it all that he wanted to avoid it at all costs.

But this little gift, the last one she gave him before he moved out, reminded him every time he looked at it that something was salvageable. They weren't completely ruined yet. There was still a love neither of them could deny or hide. He had thought about reaching out to her again, but something always stopped him.

He shook his head, opening his notebook to the next blank page. He had already gone through about half of the pages. He felt like he just needed to write everything out without thinking about. A stream of consciousness. He always did something like this when he couldn't gather his thoughts enough to form a poem, or when the voice in his head was really bad. He picked up his pen and started writing.

Eliott walks like he's flying but never wants to lose sight of the ground. It's like every time he gets a little too high up, he kicks at the ground again. He feels the grass and dirt on his feet and it gives him courage. He bounds, leaps, eyes ahead that sometimes look down, just to make sure the ground is still there. I wonder what he would look like, seem like, if he let himself fly. I wonder what I would be like if I let myself fly, too. I wonder if he feels like he's stuck in some cruel cycle like I do. Find another girl, lie every single second of my life, listen to my friends make jokes about me, listen to that voice in my head. Every time I try to be myself, everything stops me. I dig my heels and feel myself lose my balance. Then, I think, "no, this can't happen," so I leap. What does Eliott go through that stops him from flying?  He seems so perfect. He's hot, he seems to have friends already, he's talented, everyone loved his movie. What's he hiding behind his smile? What wind beats at him so hard he's afraid he'll be carried away? Why can't I stop thinking about him? Why am I trying to crack him open when I talked to him for a maximum of five minutes? Why am I so ready to give him my every hope and dream? Why do I want him so badly? Can I let myself get close enough to him that I know the answer to my every burning question? Why am I in lov

His hand froze, his pen dropping onto the paper. He stared at his handwriting, frantic and illegible. The ramblings of a madman. He shook his head and threw his notebook onto the bed. He leaned back and shut his eyes. He might be going crazy.

There was a knock at his door. He rolled his eyes.

"Mika, not now, I'm trying to sleep," he called from his bed.

"Lucas, it's me." Manon's voice comes through the door.

"Oh," Lucas said, sitting up. "Um, come in."

She opened the door and plopped down onto Lucas's bed. She started reaching for his notebook, curious, but Lucas reached over and grabbed it.

"Oh, sorry," Manon muttered, embarrassed.

"It's fine. I shouldn't have left it out." Lucas dismissed.

"So, did you talk to that Eliott kid?" Manon asked.

"Yeah, I did. We talked for a few minutes, actually. He's really nice. He even asked if I could help him with his script."

Manon's eyes widened as she grinned. "Really? Did you say yes?"

"He wants to see some of my writings, first," he replied. "A couple of my poems or short stories. Then he'll let me know."

"What are you gonna send him?"

"I don't know yet. Do you have any ideas?"

"What about that one about your mom you showed us?" Manon suggested. "How did it go again?"

"My mother wraps me in a blanket I've long outgrown." Lucas finished for her.

"Yes! That one! I always thought that was your best one. Out of the ones you've shown us, anyway."

"Thanks," Lucas smiled. "I'm sorry I haven't shown you guys a lot of my writing. It's hard, sometimes."

"Lucas, we don't expect you to let us see every single thing you write."

Lucas nodded. "Thanks again, Manon. What would I do without you?"

"No problem. I'll let you get some sleep. Good night and congratulations!"

She hugged him tightly, then left his room, making sure to shut the door quietly.

Lucas smiled. Manon always knew how to make him feel better, even when she didn't know there was something wrong in the first place. How was she supposed to know how Lucas's mind was reeling over the lies he tells and the beautiful boy he met tonight?

His room fell silent, and he decided he should sleep.

He drifted off while still thinking of Eliott. The voice inside his head was gone.

Chapter Text

"So there I was, leaning in to kiss her, then she pushes me and runs off!" Basile recounted, disappointed and confused.

"Well, what did you say to her before that?" Arthur asked. "You talked to her before that, right?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary, I don't think," Basile began. Lucas rolled his eyes. "What's your name, what year are you in, do you wanna—"

"I know what you're gonna say next, Basile, and you have to stop doing that," Lucas cut in. "You can't ask a girl for her name then immediately ask her if she wants to hook up."

"Why not?" Basile asked, genuinely confused.

"Because it's disrespectful, Basile!" Yann said, laughing in disbelief.

"I could've been worse!" Basile defended.

Arthur, Yann, and Lucas shared an exasperated look.

"Hey, how was that film festival the other day, Lucas?" Arthur asked, thankfully changing the subject.

Lucas bit his lip. It was wonderful, but he wasn't sure how the other guys would react if he said that. And he certainly wasn't telling them about Eliott. He puffed some hair out of his face. "Lame. It was all a bunch of nerds. But I found the girls and sat with them. Before that I was sitting by myself."

"Was Daphné there?" Basile asked, eager.

"Yes, but give her some space please," Lucas replied. "She's said over and over that you freak her out. And she's not gonna want to go out with you if you freak her out."

Basile frowned, folding his arms and leaning back in his seat.

"Anyway," Lucas continued. "The girls enjoyed it but I didn't see the big deal. All the movies were weird. Trying to be avant-garde, I guess."

"Sounds miserable," Yann muttered. "But at least you get extra credit."

"Yeah, but that was an hour and a half of my life I'll never get back."

Lucas dug into his backpack to find his notebook after Basile started complaining about his failed flirtations again. He needed to find his best material to send to Eliott. Who knew if he would give him a second chance if Lucas sent him something subpar? He knew he would be sending Eliott the poem about his mom, but he's written so many other poems he wasn't sure what to pick next. He'll have to talk to Manon later and get her opinion.

Suddenly, the bell rang. Students started scrambling, grabbing their things and speedwalking to their first class. Lucas didn't bother shoving his notebook into his backpack. He said a quick goodbye to his friends as they walked away. First class: biology.

Imane was staring at Lucas as he walked into the room, just barely on time. He rolled his eyes, but sat down next to her. After shoving his notebook into his backpack, he grabbed his biology binder. He could still feel Imane's stare.

"What was that notebook?" she asked.

"What notebook?" Lucas responded as coolly as he could. He didn't feel comfortable sharing his writing with Imane yet.

Thankfully, Imane brushed it off, writing something down on her paper. "Ready for our exam today?"

Lucas's heart nearly stopped. He completely forgot.

"Yeah," he replied, trying to sound nonchalant. "Totally."

Imane simply nodded, but he could tell she didn't believe him. "I saw you at the film festival Friday." 

"What do you mean?" Lucas asked, biting his lip.

"You were crying," Imane answered, almost giggling. "Like a little baby."

"BS," Lucas dismissed, hoping no one heard Imane. "I don't cry during movies. Can I just focus on studying before we start?"

"All right, class, clear your areas, we will be taking our exams right now." Mlle. Rigaux called out to the class.

Lucas sighed deeply. He spent all his time thinking about Eliott and scouring all his writings to find the best one. He didn't think once about a biology exam.

"You know you don't have to be a tough guy all the time, right?" Imane whispered to him. "It's okay if you cried, Lucas. It's nice to know you have some emotion."

Lucas shook his head, putting his binder into his backpack and pulling out a pencil. Hopefully he's absorbed enough information listening to the lectures.

Lucas certainly failed his biology exam. But he wasn't worrying about it too much. If he does well on his other exams it should balance out, right? Right now, he was focusing on getting to his film class. He had very mixed feelings about the class in general. He was never a huge fan of film, and he thought Mlle. Moreau wasn't always honest concerning her feedback. But he usually used it as a free period to study for all his other classes. It was convenient, yet a significant burden.

He made it five minutes early, and quickly walked over to his seat, alone in the back. As soon as Mlle. Moreau saw him, she walked over to him excitedly. Lucas took a deep breath, bracing himself for what she might say.

"Good morning, Lucas," she greeted warmly with her sickly sweet smile. "I was so happy to see you at the film festival last Friday!"

"I enjoyed it," he replied, trying to be as nice as possible.

"And Eliott told me he might enlist your help with his screenplay," she continued, an eyebrow raised. "I made sure to give you a glowing recommendation. And Eliott is so easy and enjoyable to work with."

Lucas's fake smile faltered, ever so slightly. "Wait, I don't have competition, do I?"

"I don't think so," Mlle. Moreau answered. "But I assumed it wouldn't hurt to encourage him to pick you if he has options."

"Well, thank you." Lucas smiled again.

Mlle. Moreau dropped her voice to a whisper. "If you want to work on anything with that during class today, that's fine by me."

Lucas perked up at that. "Oh. Well, thanks again."

She just nodded, returning to her desk.

Lucas gladly took out his notebook and started reading through it for the 30th time. He went ahead and took a picture of the poem about his mother. He wasn't sure if he should send Eliott one of his many poems about questioning his sexuality. He knew those tended to be his better ones since he's so full of emotion when he writes them, but he didn't want to scare Eliott off. He could be completely homophobic for all Lucas knew. 

He shook his head, tugging on his hair anxiously. He was overthinking things again. He's treating this quick job with Eliott like it's the job of a lifetime. He's not applying to colleges yet, or getting a real job in the real world. He's just volunteering to help Eliott with his script. He's not doing any writing himself, he's simply advising. Why can't he treat it like the small, almost insignificant deal it is?

An answer started brewing in the corner of his mind. Eliott. His eyes, his smile, his voice. 

Lucas shook his head again, squeezing his eyes shut. He turned to the next blank page in his notebook, grabbing a pen from his backpack. Reading his old poems over and over again was going to drive him insane. He could just write a new one.

Your hand is warm as it tangles into mine

Are you as warm as the sun that burns outside?

Dare I venture further and grip your hand tighter?

Will it help if I close my eyes as everything glows brighter?

But, darling if you're the light, my heart no longer quivers

If you're the light, how could it have ever shivered?

My love, you are the light that I do not fear.

Before Lucas's mind could take over again, he quickly took a picture of his new poem. He opened his messages with Eliott, attaching the new picture as well as the picture of his first poem. He hit send, then sighed deeply. He did it. He let himself sit back in his seat, closing his eyes. He tried to tell himself that at this point, whatever happens, happens. It's either meant to happen or it's not.

His eyes flew open as his phone started buzzing. He grabbed it, turning it on to see if Eliott had texted him back. 

Eliott Demaury: what class are you in rn?

Lucas's brow furrowed. 

Lucas Lallemant: Film. Why?

A moment passed before Eliott replied.

Eliott Demaury: meet me outside the classroom when the bell rings

Lucas sighed. He wished Eliott hadn't been so vague. On the one hand, Eliott could have loved his poems and wanted Lucas to help him. But on the other, he could be wanting to turn him down face to face. Lucas checked the time, and bit his lip when he realized there was still fifteen minutes left until the period was over. 

He opened his notebook to the next blank page. He needed to let his feelings out again before he could let himself freak out.

He found himself writing one line, over and over again.

I am talented. I deserve this. Eliott will love my poems. He will ask for my help.

Lucas gazed down at the page, watching his handwriting shift from confident, strong, to desperate, frantic. The letters are suddenly clinging to each other, bracing themselves against some distant, mysterious wind. His mouth went dry.

He shut his notebook, shoving it back into his backpack. He raised his hand to ask if he could leave the room, and Mlle. Moreau just nodded at him. He slung his backpack onto his shoulders, practically running out of the room. He felt tears brimming in his eyes. He knew he couldn't fight them back right now. They started falling in rivers, coursing down Lucas's cheeks. He opened the door, then immediately ran into someone right outside.

"I'm so sorry," Lucas choked out, rubbing his fists against his eyes.

"Lucas, are you okay?"

Lucas froze. It's Eliott.

"Yeah," he lied. "Why aren't you in class?"

"My class let out early," Eliott replied. "You seem upset, though, Lucas. Maybe some good news will cheer you up?"

Lucas perked up. "Good news?"

"You're an amazing writer, Lucas," Eliott said, looking right into Lucas's eyes. "It would be an absolute honor if you helped me with my script."

Lucas's heart soared, his eyes drying. He can't help but grin. "Seriously?"

"Seriously," Eliott nodded. "There's something special about the way you write. I can't quite place it. I'd love to read more sometime if you're willing to share it."

"Y-yeah," Lucas stuttered out. "I mean, sure."

"Do you write everything in a little notebook?" Eliott asked, genuinely curious.

"Yeah, pretty much. I like writing things down on paper, you know? Plus, the notebook I'm using right now is from my mom, so it's kinda special. We have a complicated relationship, but I don't think I'll move on to a new notebook until I've filled every blank space in here."

Eliott smiled. "Passion. That's the thing I couldn't quite place. You write like you'll explode if you don't get the words out. You write like you're defusing a bomb."

"Thanks?" Lucas smiled, chuckling.

"Like, there's an urgency to it, yet you take your time placing your words and your phrases," Eliott explained. "Like defusing a bomb."

"That's one way to put it," Lucas laughed. "Really, though, thank you."

"That cheered you right up," Eliott laughed along. "What were you so upset about, anyway?"

Lucas bit his lip. How would Eliott react if he knew Lucas was on the verge of a panic attack because of him? "I was, uh, trying to study for another class. I got too stressed out, I guess."

"Oh," Eliott frowned. "I'm sorry about that."

"It's fine," Lucas replied, shaking his head. "I just overthink a lot. Sometimes I'm not calm enough to defuse the bomb."

"Hey, if you need help with any of your classes, I can help you. You scratch my back, I scratch yours, right?" Eliott offered.

"Yeah, maybe," Lucas agreed. "We can work on your script, then we can work on my homework."

"Great. When do you wanna meet up then?"

"I'm free tomorrow night. My place or your place? I have to warn you, though, my roommates have some pretty big personalities."

Eliott laughed. "No, it's okay. My parents are out of town until Thursday, so we can go to my place. No distractions."

The thought of being with Eliott alone made Lucas's heart hammer. But at the same time, it made him smile. "Perfect."

"I'm glad you've come along, Lucas," Eliott said, clapping his hand on Lucas's shoulder. "You've saved my skin."

Eliott nodded, then turned and walked away.

Electricity bundled in Lucas's shoulder, branching and cracking out into every inch of his body. He felt as light as air, as warm as the blush in his cheeks. He felt the happiest he's been since before his dad left. All his anxiety, all his worry, was suddenly washed away with a single touch from Eliott Demaury.

The bell rang, and Lucas lifted his chin and walked to his next class.

Chapter Text

"Honey, I'm home!" Eliott yelled jokingly as he unlocked his front door.

Lucas was giggling anyway, but as Eliott turned to look at him with a smile, he couldn't help but stare, just for a moment.

Stop staring, his mind told him. He looked down at the floor, a shard of shame poking at his heart. He tried to ignore the ache, the sting.

"Is it cool if we work in my room?" Eliott asked, taking off his shoes.

"Oh, yeah, sure." Lucas replied, startled. He started taking off his shoes, too.

"I haven't cleaned it in a while, so sorry if it's messy." Eliott said, scratching the back of his neck. He seemed almost nervous.

"No, it's fine. If I still lived with my mom she'd say a bomb went off in my room."

"You don't live with your mom? Do you live with your dad, or?"

Lucas shook his head. "No. Dad's off with his new family. I live with some roommates."

"Oh, okay," Eliott nodded. Lucas could tell he wanted to apologize, but thankfully he didn't. "Well, my room's right here."

They turned down a hallway then entered a room on the left. Hundreds of slips of papers fluttered as the door opened, making Lucas's jaw nearly drop. The papers all had drawings on them. Some he recognized as sketches from Polaris, others he assumed were doodles. There were a lot of drawings of raccoons. There was one where a raccoon was swimming in a pool, another was of another raccoon reading a book. There were a couple where there was a cat with the raccoon. They watched the sunset, ate dinner together, held hands.

"Did you draw all of these?" Lucas asked, amazed.

"Yeah, I did," Eliott responded, smiling proudly.

"Why are there a bunch of raccoons?" 

"I love raccoons. They're my spirit animal. I'm not the best at drawing people anyway, so I tend to draw animals. I draw myself as a raccoon."

"That's actually really cool," Lucas said, looking at more drawings. "What animal would I be then?"

When Eliott didn't respond after a couple seconds, Lucas turned around. He saw Eliott staring at him, his eyes drifting from his head to his toes. He has a pleasant, content smile on his face. Lucas wasn't sure how to feel. He stared at Eliott's eyes, watching them dance across his body. They're a bluish gray, he realized. Like a storm cloud. He felt himself blushing and looked back down at the floor.

"I'm not sure yet," Eliott finally said. "Maybe after tonight I'll think of something."

Lucas let himself smile. The voice told him not to, but looking at Eliott and seeing him smile made it easier to ignore it. It was like when Lucas first met Lucas, and for once in his life, the voice was quiet.

"As long as I'm not a blobfish or something, I'm cool with whatever you think of." Lucas joked.

"No, you're too handsome to be a blobfish." Eliott replied, laughing.

Handsome? Lucas's heart started beating a little faster. The blush came back, brighter and more furious, and Lucas knew he couldn't hide it.

"Let's get started, yeah?" Eliott said, raising an eyebrow. "I think I'll show you my original script so you can read it for yourself. See what you think."

Lucas smiled. "Sounds good to me."

Eliott picked up a laptop from a desk in the corner and sat on his bed. He looked up at Lucas, patting the spot next to him. "You can sit on my bed, too."

Lucas took a deep breath, hoping the blush in his cheeks had faded. He sat next to Eliott, who had just pulled up a Word document. 

"If you see any, like, grammar or spelling mistakes feel free to fix them. I won't be offended," Eliott said, handing the laptop over to Lucas. "Hopefully there won't be too many."

"Don't worry, it's easy to make those kinda mistakes," Lucas reassured him, his eyes starting to scan the text.

Eliott's writing is simple, yet descriptive. There were a couple errors here and there, but nothing serious. The dialogue was realistic and energetic. Lucas was impressed. For someone with little experience, Eliott wasn't terrible.

"So?" Eliott muttered, obviously nervous.

"It's good. It's simple, but sometimes the best writing is the writing that's the most simple. I'm not sure it needs much work, really."

Eliott sighed. "I know, but the thing is, I don't think there's anything I could cut out or rearrange, I feel like I need to add more. I feel like I have more to say."

"What do you want to say, then? What do you think is missing?"

"I don't know. I think about when I first got this idea and all the ideas I had about it, but I feel like it's not all there."

"Okay, then tell me about how you get this idea. Like, where were you, what was happening?"

Eliott straightened, taking a deep breath. Lucas hadn't realized he had struck a nerve. He watched Eliott a moment longer, and was about to say something, but Eliott interrupted him.

"Let's just say it was a rough time. I felt like there were these parts of me that were warring against each other. I couldn't decide which one I should be, or which one people wanted me to be. Sometimes one part was stronger or more powerful than the other part. It's, uh, it's complicated."

Lucas bit his lip. He thought of the menacing voice in his head, the silent yet deafening musings of his heart. The way they fought and bickered until his insides are torn and shredded and all he feels is hollow. But what makes Eliott feel the same way?

"I mean, I'm sure that's hard to talk about," Lucas said, trying not to reveal too much about himself. "Those kinda things are hard to describe. And it's always frustrating when you feel like you haven't said enough."

Eliott nodded, smiling sadly. "Yeah, it's hard. I'm sorry if I seem vague or anything."

"No, I get it," Lucas replied. "Sometimes, when you're writing about something that hurts or is hard to talk about, it takes time for you to be able to organize all your thoughts in a way that makes sense, you know? I could spend days on one poem that's only a few lines because I'm so desperate to feel understood. And that's why you try to rewire your brain to where it's almost exploding. That way, you can get that sense of understanding from your audience."

Eliott was staring at Lucas, drinking in every word he said. He smiled. "You talk like a writer, too."

Lucas grinned. "Do I make it that obvious?"

"It's not an insult, Lucas," Eliott laughed along. "It's a compliment."

Lucas could listen to Eliott laugh all day. It was pretty, musical. He shook his head a little to clear his mind. "Seriously, though, do you know what I mean? Is that what's frustrating you?"

Eliott sighed. "The reason why I want to do film is that I want people to feel understood, and that if someone doesn't understand at first, they can. I just don't wanna mess that up, you know? What's the point in spending all this time creating something and I didn't accomplish what I wanted to?"

Lucas bit his lip, trying to figure out what he would say next. "Do you wanna know something, Eliott?"

Eliott's brow furrowed, but he nodded. "Okay."

"When I saw your movie at the festival, I cried. Like a baby. That's never happened before."

Eliott chuckled. "Seriously?"

"Seriously."

Eliott grinned, looking down at his feet. "The great, tough-as-nails Lucas cried at my movie?"

"He sure did," Lucas chuckled. "Now, he's not as tough as he used to be. And you broke down his wall with this script you think isn't that great. Imagine the damage you would inflict once you got all your words out. You just need to find those lost words, that's all. Of course, that's easier said than done, but you'll always find the right words eventually."

Eliott was still smiling a bit, but his gaze was far away, thoughtful. He looked back at Lucas. "You're great at advice, too, huh?"

"Well, writing advice. This is loosely tied to life advice."

"Can I try?" Eliott asked, pointing at the laptop.

"Dude, it's your laptop, you don't have to ask for my permission." Lucas laughed.

Eliott shrugged, chuckling, then took the laptop.

"Just find a place where you think the script is a bit weaker and start there." Lucas said.

"I accidentally closed the tab," Eliott grumbled.

Lucas looked over and saw Eliott's screensaver. It was him with a girl on a picnic blanket. The girl obviously took the picture. She grinned while Eliott kissed her on the cheek.

"Wh-who's that?" Lucas stammered, willing his eyes to stay dry.

"Oh," Eliott replied, his mood shifting, souring. "It's just my girlfriend, Lucille."

"You don't seem very happy about that," Lucas said, just barely above a whisper. The whole room felt fragile.

Eliott shrugged. "We're in a bit of a rough patch right now."

A potentially fatal mixture of emotions filled Lucas's chest. Jealousy, bitterness, sadness, desperation, a pinch of hope. But, like always, he would push them away and get back to them later.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Lucas apologized, still afraid to speak too loudly.

"It's fine, let's just get back to work." Eliott dismissed, a look on his face Lucas couldn't interpret.

"Yeah, we can do that." Lucas agreed, nodding.

Eliott opened the Word document again, immediately scrolling to the third page. He hovered the cursor over a line of dialogue. The cursor blinked, while Eliott stared. He ran his fingers over his upper lip, obviously deep in thought. Lucas was afraid to breathe.

After a minute or two, Eliott shook his head, slamming his laptop shut. Lucas jumped. He held his breath again.

"I'm sorry, I'm just—" Eliott sighed deeply, his leg bouncing. "I'm just frustrated."

"It's okay," Lucas said, trying to keep his voice calm. "Writing is frustrating sometimes."

"It's not just that," Eliott replied. "It's everything in my head, everything going on outside this room..."

"Eliott, do we need to stop? Take a break?" Lucas asked tentatively. "I don't wanna make you work if you're this upset."

Eliott just nodded.

"Okay." Lucas sighed. "We'll take a break."

Just then, a knock at the door. 

"I'm sorry, but do you mind getting that?" Eliott asked, shutting his eyes tightly.

"Yeah, it's okay."

Lucas carefully got up from Eliott's bed, jogging to the front door. He had to stand on his toes to see through the peep hole. It looked like the girl from the picture. He opened the door, slowly.

She was tall, and clearly annoyed. But when she saw Lucas, she seemed almost angry. "Who are you? Where's Eliott?"

"He's in his room. And I'm Lucas. I'm helping him with his script." Lucas tried his best to be nice, offering a respectful smile. He held his hand out for her to shake.

She eyed his hand suspiciously, then shook it for barely a second. "Lucille. Listen, I need to talk to Eliott."

"I'm... not sure if that's the best idea," Lucas started nervously. "He's kinda upset."

"About?" she urged, taking a step closer to him. She was just barely taller than Lucas.

"He's just a little frustrated, I'm sure he'll be fine once he has a minute to cool off."

Lucas heard footsteps behind him. He turned and saw Eliott. His back was slouched, his eyes tired yet blazing. He looked scary. Lucas backed away from the door.

"We can talk," Eliott told Lucille, his voice low. "In the kitchen. Lucas will be in my room."

Lucas nodded, scurrying off to Eliott's room. He could feel the tension mounting, and he didn't want to be there when it spilled over. He shut the door and sat on the bed. He didn't know what to do with himself.

He wrung his hands, feeling out his veins, his knuckles, his bones. He studied more of Eliott's drawings. One of the first ones he saw was of a cat, claws and fangs bared. A couple of drawings later, he saw a raccoon and a cat hissing at each other. Is Lucille the cat? Lucas decided to watch himself wring his hands, the way his skin pales then reddens when he adds and removes pressure. He studied an old scar on his pinkie, worried a hangnail on his ring finger.

Then the yelling started.

"Is that why you have a boy toy here?" Lucille shouted.

Lucas winced, his blood running cold.

"He's helping me with my script, I've already told you that five times! Not that you care." Eliott retorted, more tired than angry.

"What do I not care about, Eliott?" Lucille challenged.

"Anything I do that doesn't include you!" Eliott erupted suddenly. "The second I try to do my own thing you get all paranoid! I hang out with my friends, you say I'm neglecting you. When I'm having a bad day and I just want to be alone, you accuse me of isolating myself and get mad at me for not relying on you 24/7. That one time I said I needed to study and you told me to fix my priorities. I work on the movie I'll be sending to colleges soon with Lucas, and you call him a boy toy!"

"Like you haven't had boy toys before," Lucille hissed. "What am I supposed to assume when you're with some second year guy alone?"

"Literally anything else! Do you think I'm so desperate to break up with you, I'll hook up with any guy that'll give me the time of day? Not everything I do revolves around you, Lucille!"

Lucas needed to get out of there. He couldn't stand listening anymore. It made his brain too frazzled and his stomach twisted into too many knots. He found a blank sticky note on Eliott's desk. He started scrawling out a quick note.

I thought it'd be better if I left you two alone. I'm sorry. Call me if you need me. -Lucas

He took a deep breath, grabbed the note, then made his way to the front door. The argument was louder.

"The only reason I do all that is because I'm worried about you," Lucille yelled. "Is that so wrong?"

"There's a difference between worrying about me and making sure I'm okay, and policing my every single move whenever I leave your sight."

"Eliott, the last time I left you alone you—"

"Don't you dare," Eliott roared. Lucas swore he felt the ground shake. "Don't you dare finish that sentence!"

Lucas tried to get his shoes on as quickly as he could. He tied the laces sloppily, his sock had rolled down to his heel. It didn't matter.

"Eliott, you can't keep ignoring—"

"Shut up!" Eliott screamed.

The whole apartment fell silent. Lucas felt frozen.

"I don't need you."

Eliott's voice was level, normal, laced with ice.

Lucille appeared, stomping out of the kitchen. Tears ran down her face. She glared at Lucas, pushing him out of her way. He stumbled a bit, but caught himself. Lucille threw the door open, then slammed it.

Lucas couldn't stand the silence that fell. But he was too afraid to move.

Eliott walked into view, slowly. When his gaze fell on Lucas, there were a million emotions etched into every inch of his face. Lucas felt his heart break a little.

"Eliott, I—" Lucas started, a stammering mess.

"Wanna get out of here?" Eliott asked, flat.

Lucas blinked. "I was gonna—"

"Do you wanna get out of here?" Eliott repeated. Not angry, pleading.

"Okay."

As soon as they left the apartment building, Eliott started running. Lucas paused for a second, but followed him. The streets were dark and empty, the streetlamps glowing and warm. The moon was almost full, the stars a little brighter. The sound of Eliott's footsteps had the smallest echo, just barely audible over the pounding in Lucas's ears. His feet were stumbling in confusion, and becoming more puzzled every time they struck the ground.

"Where are we going?" Lucas called, out of breath.

"Somewhere Lucille won't find us," Eliott answered over his shoulder.

Lucas saw a tear on Eliott's cheek.

They ran for about five minutes before Eliott skidded to a stop. They were at the corner of the street, and if they kept moving forward, they would be running through the woods. A large, wrought iron gate blocked a path. The metal squealed as Eliott opened the gate. He stood by, staring at Lucas.

Lucas tried to get his breath back, taking in as much air as his lungs would allow. As he looked forward, he saw the woods were completely dark. Was Eliott really planning on walking in there?

"It's dark," Lucas said, pointing.

Eliott pulled out his phone, turning on the flashlight. "I know you have one, too."

Lucas sighed. He took his phone out, too. Once the flashlight was on, he could see a lot better.

"I knew you were afraid of the dark," Eliott mused quietly. He was smiling, just a little bit.

"How do you know?" Lucas asked, smiling, too.

"I can just tell. But it's okay, we have light now, scaredy cat." Eliott teased, shining his flashlight in Lucas's eyes.

"Hey!" Lucas exclaimed, covering his eyes.

Eliott laughed, walking past the gate and onto the trail. The laughter doesn't last long. Silence fell again.

"You could hear us, couldn't you?" Eliott asked, his voice quiet.

"Yeah," Lucas admitted. "I was gonna leave. With all the things I was hearing... I didn't wanna eavesdrop."

"I'm glad you didn't leave, Lucas," Eliott replied, earnest. "It's like Lucille said. I'm dangerous when I'm by myself. And you understand."

"Understand what?"

"Me."

Lucas searched Eliott's face, yet found nothing but honesty. He didn't know how to reply.

"You're not a boy toy, Lucas. You know that, right?"

"Of course I do."

"Lucille was right about me having 'boy toys.' It was always when we were fighting or broken up again. But I'm not gonna use you like that. I don't even know if you like boys or not."

I like you.

The voice in his head didn't say anything. It just erased that thought from his head.

"But you like boys?" Lucas asked.

"Yeah," Eliott nodded. "Boys, girls, whoever. Doesn't matter."

Lucas's heart wanted to soar again.

"Do you like boys?" Eliott asked, cautious.

Lucas inhaled deeply. He had never said a phrase like out loud ever. He wondered what the words would taste like on his tongue.

"It's okay if you don't wanna talk about it," Eliott added. "Figuring out who you like can be confusing."

"No, I, uh," Lucas took another deep breath. "I think I like boys."

He stumbled through those fateful words, like he was singing a song he had just heard for the first time. But at the same time, they felt right. This is the song he's meant to sing. No one sings a song very well the first time they sing it. By the millionth time they sing their song, it's theirs. Lucas's song will be truly his one day. He could feel it.

"You don't sound super confident about it yet." Eliott replied. It didn't come out mean or condescending, it came out concerned.

"I'm working on it." Lucas said, more reassuring himself than Eliott. One day my song will be mine.

Lucas started looking around the forest, and he realized that it started to look familiar. Just a little. He flashed his flashlight ahead of him, and he saw a tunnel.

This is the setting for Polaris.

Lucas must have said his thought out loud, because Eliott smiled.

"You remember," he said, gazing fondly at the tunnel. "This is my secret hiding spot. As far as I know, no one else knows about it. But now, you know about it, too."

"And Lucille doesn't know about this place?"

"I don't think she would even recognize it from Polaris. She's seen it, but I don't think she really paid attention. She just held on to me like I was a lifejacket or something," Eliott gazed off into the distance, something like regret in his eyes. He turned to Lucas, and his eyes brightened. "I trust you, Lucas. You deserve to see this."

Eliott kept walking, but Lucas stood still, a million thoughts racing through his mind. He met Eliott last Friday, and today was the first time they had a true, full conversation. And now Eliott is trusting Lucas with something he holds so dear? Something not even Lucille knows about?

And Eliott looked amazing in the light of the flashlights. It highlighted streaks of blond in his hair, made his eyes sparkle even more. Lucas's heart hammered as he stared at him. And, somewhere deep in his little heart, he was afraid. Could he mess everything up with Eliott? Could Eliott really want to be just friends, even though he likes boys, too? What if Eliott doesn't keep in touch once the project is done?

The tunnel looked large and ominous in real life as it did in the movie. Lucas was afraid of that, too. Even their flashlights couldn't quite overcome all the darkness.

"Are you coming?" Eliott asked, shining his flashlight on Lucas.

"Y-yeah, sorry," Lucas responded, walking towards Eliott.

"I know it's dark, but there's nothing dangerous in there. I promise."

Eliott had a small, reassuring smile on his face. Lucas believed him.

They walked into the tunnel together, their flashlights slowly lighting their way. Lucas walked slowly, carefully. He smiled when he realized Eliott kept pace with him.

"So, I was thinking we could work on the script a bit in here," Eliott said. "You know, that way I can be where I first got the idea."

Lucas smiled again. "No, that's a good idea."

"We can stop right here." Eliott said, sitting down. He pulled his laptop out of the backpack he brought. As he opened it and logged in, he opened the Word document as quickly as he could, trying to avoid looking at his screensaver. He went back to where he was starting, but started typing immediately.

Lucas watched as words took up more space on the screen. "Good job," he encouraged.

Eliott smiled, typing away. "I'm not as good as you, but—"

"A fatal mistake," Lucas interrupted. "Comparing yourself to other writers. Everyone writes differently, so what's the point comparing? It's all apples and oranges. I'm sure film's the same way."

Eliott shrugged. Then he chuckled. "Hey, Lucas, have you ever imagined a snooty English teacher in a gaudy sweater vest reciting your poetry to a new generation of bored students?"

Lucas snorted. "No, but I can see it now, thanks. What about you? Can you imagine a mustachioed film teacher in a turtleneck musing about your films in front of a new generation of bored students?"

"I have, actually," Eliott grinned. "I think that would be cool if that happened, you know? And hopefully those kids aren't bored."

Lucas raised his eyebrows. "Oh, so the kids are bored with my poetry but not your movies?"

Eliott shrugged again, laughing. "Sorry. I'm sure they'll be riveted."

"I wouldn't mind publishing a poetry collection someday," Lucas said, wistful. "But my goal is to publish at least one novel before I die."

"Any ideas you have that are publish-worthy?" Eliott asked, typing again.

"I'm not sure yet," Lucas admitted. "I have this one idea that I like a lot."

"What is it?"

"Can't tell you. It's top secret."

"What?!" Eliott exclaimed. "Why not?"

"Because I'm still working on it! It has to be perfect before I tell you."

"I don't think you really have an idea," Eliott said, shaking his head. "You're just lying to make yourself feel better."

"I've been writing stories since I was five!" Lucas defended. "I've had some ideas over the years!"

"You know what, Lucas? We're in my secret place. You tell me your secret and it'll stay right here."

Lucas bit his lip. He was blushing again. "My idea is... a story about a boy who falls in love."

"Okay," Eliott replied, smiling. "Is that all that happens?"

"Yeah, more happens, obviously. I'm just not sure what should happen yet."

"Have they kissed yet?" Eliott asked.

"No, not yet. Give them time."

"Have they gone out on a date yet?"

"No, they haven't done that either."

"What have they done?"

"They actually haven't met yet. Admiring from afar, you know?"

"Have you just started writing this story?"

"Yeah. A couple weeks ago."

Silence fell, and the blush in Lucas's cheeks was furious. The story idea was real, but for him at the time, it was all wishful thinking. Boy meets other boy, boy falls in love, happily ever after. But now, his wishful thinking might be coming true.

"Will you let me read your story one day?" Eliott asked. He was staring at Lucas, something dancing in his eyes.

"You can once it's published. You'll have to buy it at the bookstore yourself."

Eliott sighed, laughing to himself. "You're stubborn."

Lucas shrugged. "My friend Daphné says it's because I'm a Taurus."

"Is that supposed to mean something?" Eliott chuckled.

"I don't know." Lucas said, distant. His gaze fell on Eliott's lips. He couldn't make himself look away.

Stop staring.

He loved the shade of pink that stained Eliott's lips. He loved the way he smiled, slow and sweet. He loved the way his teeth always peeked out. His eyes drifted up and watched the storm clouds brewing in Eliott's eyes. Sometimes there's a bundle of lightning that crackles when he laughs. His eyes are a summer storm, one you can't look away from. Lucas tried to drink in every detail of his face, every inch. The more he stared, the quieter the voice became.

Aren't you afraid of getting hurt?

As Eliott turned to look at him, he expected the voice to tell him to look away, run away. But it didn't. The voice was gone.

Somewhere, deep within Lucas's chest, a new voice started speaking. It was so quiet Lucas could barely hear it.

Kiss him.

Lucas leaned in, closing his eyes. He heard the new voice, the stars themselves above him, guide him closer and closer to Eliott's lips. He felt his lips brush against Eliott's.

His phone rang.

He jumped back, his eyes flying open. Eliott looked scared, too. Lucas pulled out his phone. Mika was calling him.

"Hey," he said, his heart racing.

"Where have you been? It's late?"

"I told you, I'm studying with someone."

"Until 2 in the morning?"

Lucas's eyes widened. "What time is it?" he mouthed to Eliott.

Eliott showed Lucas his phone screen. It was 2:07 in the morning.

"Sorry, Mika, we lost track of time."

"It's fine. I just want you back in the apartment soon, okay? Don't scare me like that again."

"I'm sorry. I'll start heading back now."

"Stay safe, kitten." 

"I will. Bye."

Lucas hung up, sighing deeply. Did the time really get away from them like that?

When he looked up at Eliott, he seemed sad. The clouds in his eyes looked a little darker.

"That was one of my roommates," Lucas said, putting his phone back in his pocket. "He wants me to head back as soon as I can."

"There's a bus stop not far from here," Eliott replied. "I'll walk you."

Lucas managed a smile. "Thanks."

The walk to the bus stop was tense. Lucas swore his lips were tingling after just barely touching Eliott's. The voice in his head started coming back. That new voice in his chest was silent again. Eliott wasn't talking, either.

"Tell me more about your polaris." Eliott finally said, breaking the silence.

Lucas sighed. "My mind and my heart are at constant war with each other. My mind screams its throat raw, my heart stands its ground. I can't make either of them stop."

Eliott's the only one who can quiet his mind. His heart only raised its voice when he tried to kiss Eliott. The answer is Eliott. But he can't tell him that.

Eliott just nods in response. "Are you gonna ask about mine?"

"Do you want me to?" Lucas asked, quiet.

"Not really." Eliott answered, even quieter.

It wouldn't be this awkward if you hadn't tried to kiss him.

Lucas bit his lip. He never liked to admit the voice in his head was right sometimes, but now he can't deny it.

"The bus stop is just around this corner." Eliott said, pointing ahead.

"Oh, okay," Lucas replied. "Thanks again, by the way."

"It's no problem," Eliott smiled, just barely. "I should probably get home, too, anyway."

Lucas nodded. 

They turned the corner and the bus stop came into view. There was no one sitting on the bench.

As they walked, Lucas looked up to the stars, looking for some sort of answer. He wished they weren't just random, white drops of paint on a canvas. He wished they were puzzle pieces so he could fit them all together. Or maybe he could create his own picture, his own sky.

But all the stars did was twinkle silently in their random place in the night sky.

"What are you looking at?" Eliott asked, his voice a little brighter.

"The stars," Lucas answered, letting himself smile. "The moon. The night sky."

"I'd love to see how you describe the night sky," Eliott remarked, wistful and distant.

"Nothing super special. Perhaps an overuse of the word 'firmament.'"

"Firmament?"

"Yeah. It's another word for sky. I just think it's a cool word. Firmament. Steadfast. Strong. Constant."

Lucas felt the tension ease a bit; the moon seemed to shine just a bit brighter.

"I like that, too." Eliott replied, bouncing a little as he walked.

"I don't write much about nature," Lucas realized. "I don't know why."

"What's your poetry usually about, then?"

"Whatever's in my head. My feelings, things that are happening to me or in the world. More introspective stuff. Not so much reflective."

"Come up with a poem about the night sky," Eliott suggested. "Right now."

"Right now?" Lucas repeated, shocked.

"Right now."

"I'm not that kind of poet, Eliott," Lucas said, chuckling. "I'm not eloquent enough to think on my feet like that."

"Just try."

Lucas sighed. "Freckles of silver... A milky, glowing tear... Could she be a bruise?"

"A haiku?" Eliott said, obviously holding back a laugh.

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with a good haiku! The haiku is an art that takes years to master."

"It's three lines, Lucas." Eliott laughed.

Lucas shook his head, giggling. "No, you don't understand!"

"I'm pretty sure I do."

In the distance, an engine rumbled and brakes squealed. When Lucas turned around, the bus was creeping towards them. His heart sank.

"I guess I have to go now," Lucas said, forcing a smile.

"Next time you see me, I'll have a haiku better than the one you just made up ready for you." Eliott promised with a wink.

Lucas felt tears rising in his eyes. He fought them back. "I can't wait to read it."

The bus screeched to a stop as the doors hissed open. Lucas gave Eliott a small wave before getting on. He watched Eliott through the window as he found a seat in the back. Eliott was staring back at him. Lucas grinned. He waved again as the driver shut the door.

Eliott waved back, the biggest, sweetest smile on his face. Lucas's heart glowed and burned like a small, gentle fire. A single, joyful tear rolled down his cheek. He prayed Eliott didn't notice.

The bus rolled forward with a jerk, then continued down the street.

When Lucas looked back, he saw Eliott walking back towards the tunnel.

Chapter Text

Lucas doesn't remember falling asleep when he got home. He had just closed his eyes and found himself drifting through the sky on a warm, muggy night. Below him, silver trees shimmered in the moonlight, its golden leaves dripping diamonds. The grass was made of thin threads of gold, sparkling as bright as the stars. Right by the forest was a river of warm milk, flowing and churning slowly. The air smelled like wildflowers, thick and sweet. Lucas started floating down to the ground until he landed softly in the golden grass.

When he looked up, the diamonds in the trees refracted the moonlight, sending prisms of light back and forth between each branch. Something told him to eat one of the diamonds. He plucked one he could reach, put it in his mouth and felt it melt on his tongue. It was sugar. He ate enough of the diamonds to create a necklace. Something told him to go to the river of milk. He followed the sound, feeling the grass whisper against his bare legs. He watched the rainbows above him shift, grow brighter and darker.

He reached a clearing, and the river roared softly. He knelt by the bank, gathering the milk in his cupped palms. It was sickly sweet, thick, like heavy cream. It dribbled down his chin, dripping onto the grass. He drank almost ravenously, craving more and more. The more he drank, the more milk was drained from the river. Something urged him to stop, to leave the river alone before he drank it dry. Lucas obeyed the instinct, looking ahead.

Then there, in the distance, fireflies lit the skyline of a city. The city went dark as the fireflies fluttered toward him, giggling and singing songs in some ancient language. Lucas held his hand out, letting them weave and dance between his fingers. They felt like little fires, little matches. He giggled along. They told him about what the world was like beyond this little corner, where canyons were made of decadent chocolate and the clouds were made of wispy cotton candy. They taught him their songs, their poetry, their literature. Then Lucas blinked and they rearranged themselves back into the skyline, chattering distantly.

Lucas looked up at the sky, gazing at a crescent moon and the brightest stars he'd ever seen. He stared at them for a moment, then the stars turned into puzzle pieces. Lucas reached up, and they moved beneath his fingers. He rearranged them until suddenly all he saw was Eliott's face. The moon became his smile, the stars became his eyes, his nose, his hair. He had never looked so beautiful. Lucas stood on his toes, jumped as high as he could, so he could reach Eliott. A sudden gust of wind swept him off his feet and carried him up to the sky. He watched as Eliott's face rushed up to him, beaming. Lucas closed his eyes, leaning into Eliott's lips. They were soft. They tasted like cheese. Lucas dug deeper, wanting more. He craved it more than the diamonds in the trees, the milk in the river. He couldn't get enough. Eliott was everywhere, wrapping and enveloping him in his warmth. And the warmth made him feel like the most important person in the world, that someone truly cared for him, that he could finally be the happiest he's ever been. The warmth soaked through his clothes, his skin, muscle and bone, straight to his heart. For once, he felt like he could go to the top of the world and shout to everyone that would listen that he's in—

Love.

Lucas's eyes flew open as he awoke, his breath catching in his throat. 

Eliott is the answer.

Lucas scanned his room, panicked. His heart raced, his breath was quick and short, but there was nothing there except for the echoes of the voice in his chest.

Eliott is the answer...

Lucas sighed as he realized it was almost morning. The sunrise began to filter through the curtains into his bedroom, creating a rosy, warm haze. He lied back down, hearing the echoes begin to fade away. His soul begged for the echoes to stay, but it was too late. The echoes spilled out of Lucas's ears, slipping away like sand between his fingers. He closed his eyes. He saw that world again, just barely. The golden grass, the silver trees, the river of milk, Eliott in the sky. His mind took over and he started writing down every detail of his dream before he could forget. He can't forget this.

Lucas blinked, then stared at the full page he had written about his dream. As he studied it, he couldn't quite decipher what he was feeling. Part of him was in love with Eliott, another part was simply content and happy, another was already missing the sound of the voice in his chest, and another was missing the harmony between the new voice and Eliott's voice. He was filled with hope and happiness and longing and melancholy, all at once. Usually, commotion like this made his head hurt, or his heart ache. But all he felt was the oddest sensation deep in his belly.

Lucas turns to the next page in his notebook. He felt like he needed to just let his hand and his mind take over again. They'll force words out of the parts of himself he's afraid to look into and onto the page.

Among the silver trees and golden grass

Shine diamonds, sugar spun into crystals

I see a river of milk as I pass

And fireflies, then all the light distills—

Lucas froze as he scanned the words on the page. A sonnet? he thought. He checked the meter, the rhyme. It all worked. He wrote a sonnet! A fourth of a sonnet!

But it didn't feel like he did. He wrote this sonnet in under 10 minutes and didn't make a single mistake as far as meter or rhyme. It felt so natural. Like his own heartbeat. Like the way he feels around Eliott.

Eliott is the answer, the voice in his chest told him again.

It was so clear. Even in its echoes. It sounded like a bell, pealing through an old city. The walls, the people, sing its song back to it, creating their own harmonies and melodies. Lucas could feel his bones singing along with his heart. He could feel his muscles joining in, his blood. Everything inside him was singing.

How could he deny this voice in his chest? How could he ever ignore it or say that its wrong after this moment? How could he dismiss his own heart? How did he manage to silence it his whole life? How did he live, how was he a human being, when he refused to listen to its innate, innermost yearnings? How could he let his mind shout and scream at him when he could have listened to the soothing sounds it whispers in his ear?

And it was Eliott Demaury, a boy he met not even a week ago, that finally let him know that his heart is the thing he should be listening to.

Lucas pulled out his phone, tears in his eyes. He started writing a message to Eliott.

Good morning! I had such an amazing time last night. I've never opened up to someone as much as I did to you. Thank you for listening. I can't wait to hang out and work on the script again.

He didn't bother reading over the text. He hit send immediately. He smiled to himself. And when he felt a tear go down his cheek, he didn't wipe it away.

"You're in a good mood today, Lucas," Yann remarked. "What's got you so happy?"

They were all sitting in the courtyard, waiting for the first warning bell to ring. Lucas didn't notice how much he was smiling.

"I'm just having a good day, you know?" Lucas replied, shrugging. And for once, he didn't feel bad for lying. He was finally honest with himself, wasn't he?

"If I didn't know better, I'd say he's in love," Arthur winked.

Lucas rolled his eyes as the other boys laughed. "I'm not. But at least I've been more successful than Basile in that department."

Basile's jaw dropped, eyes wide. "Hey! You didn't have to bring me into it!"

A pang of guilt struck Lucas's heart, just for a moment. He gave Basile an apologetic look, but he didn't see it.

"He's not wrong," Yann laughed.

"I'm sorry, Bas," Lucas said, giving him a reassuring pat on the back. "I'm sure you'll find a girl someday."

"Well, if that girl is Daphné, someday was a while ago," Basile retorted. "It's just that we aren't together yet."

"Well, if you want her to go out with you, just take our advice," Lucas replied, hoping his words would patch the small wound he inflicted. "If she says you're being creepy or making her uncomfortable, stop. She'll see the true Basile in action, and she actually might be willing to give you the time of day. She needs to see your sweet side."

"How am I creepy?" Basile asked, frustrated. "You guys tell me that all the time!"

"You're just obviously desperate," Arthur said. "Like, so desperate it's almost sad."

Basile sighed, folding his arms. "Don't I deserve some love, too? Is that so much to ask?"

"Yes, Bas," Yann replied. "But you can't force it like this, dude. I know it's frustrating, but if you just give it time and be yourself, it'll happen."

Basile sighed again, but nodded. "I'll try."

"Attaboy!" Lucas grinned, patting him on the back again.

The warning bell rang, and everyone started scurrying to their first class.

"Hey," Yann called as Lucas started walking away. He turned around. "Keep that smile on your face, Lucas. We've missed it."

Lucas grinned. "I've missed it, too."

Yann waved, turning and walking away.

Lucas started walking to his first class when he felt his phone buzz. His heart leapt. Maybe it was Eliott?

He looked at his screen, but it was only Mika asking if he had finished the milk. His heart suddenly sank, just a little. He texted back a quick, not so sincere apology and kept on walking. Maybe Eliott will reply later.

Lucas spent the next two days waiting for a reply from Eliott, but he never got one. He started checking his phone almost obsessively. The boys kept asking him why he was so worried about his phone, and he made up some lame excuse. The girls noticed, too, but they were harder to lie to. They could always see right through him. When he lied awake at night thinking about Eliott, he wasn't thinking about how happy he made him feel. Now, he worried about whether he had messed things up, crossed a boundary. He rethought every look, every touch, every word. Was Eliott just entertaining Lucas the whole time? Was he just trying to appease him? As the minutes and hours crept by, his thoughts became more frantic, more desperate. Eliott hadn't even read the message. The voice in Lucas's head started to creep back in like vines or darkness—slowly, steadily.

This was a mistake.

Going to the film festival, talking to Eliott that night, agreeing to work on the script, going over to his house, not leaving when him and Lucille started fighting, following him to the tunnel. His mind wanted to think of it all as some fluke, some imaginary thing he unconsciously morphed into reality.

Lucas tried to reason with his head. How could a mistake ever feel like the way Eliott makes him feel? How could that ever be wrong? And if things do go downhill, is it so bad if it made him feel so good? With every question, some dark, sinister answer entered his mind.

Good and bad can never exist in some grey area. Eliott can't make you feel good and bad at the same time.

Eliott never made Lucas feel bad. It was the voice in his head that made him question everything with Eliott. This is the same voice that tells him not to talk a certain way, or walk a certain way, or act a certain way. Eliott never told him anything like that.

Lucas tried to ignore the lingering shadow in the corner of his mind. He picked up his notebook, looking back on his account of his strange dream. He needed to remember everything that made him love Eliott. He needed to remember the moment when he realized liking a boy is okay.

"Every star became a puzzle piece, growing and disintegrating into grooves. I don't know what led my fingers to make Eliott's face. Maybe my heart guided me. Maybe some higher force did. Maybe fate, destiny. Maybe Eliott was calling out to me, and I had finally found him and heard him for the first time..."

"The world I found myself in was beautiful, but as soon as I saw his face in the sky, the thing I thought was missing suddenly came rushing in. Suddenly, everything made sense..."

"When I closed my eyes, I saw another trail of stars. All I had to do was follow them, follow their light. And it was this trail that led me straight to his lips..."

"He tasted like cheese, yet he tasted sweeter than the sugar and the milk combined. Maybe what I'm truly tasting is love..."

"My cheeks hurt from smiling as I kiss him. I feel my lip splitting and blood rising out of it. But pain doesn't truly exist in this world. A world with him and his mouth on mine..."

"I can't help but wonder what it would be like if I was made of stars, too. When our lips collide, a nebula envelops us in color and light and fire..."

Lucas shut his notebook, his heart aching and brain melting. He had just read the sappy, sentimental poetry he used to make fun of, yet it came from his own pen. He didn't have that sense of detachment that made him feel comfortable to mock the romantics anymore. It was personal this time. He was looking back on his own feelings and facing them with disdain, frustration, crushing sadness. The voice in his head became louder, more convincing.

This was a mistake. Eliott was a mistake.

Something in his heart began to stir. He barely heard the voice that spoke up.

Give him one more day. Just one.

Lucas shook his head, pulling out his phone and opening his messages. He started texting his groupchat with the other boys. He needed a distraction. He needed to forget the voice in his head, Eliott. He'll give him another day, but he wasn't gonna waste another second worrying about him.

Lucas: Hey, I feel like going out tonight. Do you guys know if anyone's throwing a party or something?

Arthur: I heard there was some girl in our year throwing a party tonight. Half the school is going.

Yann: I'm down if everyone else is

Basile: YES LET'S GO

Lucas: Le gang is back!

Arthur sent the address. It wasn't far from Lucas's apartment. They all agreed to meet out front until the whole gang arrived. The other boys' replies seemed excited, energetic, but Lucas had to force himself to fake it. He'll let loose once he's had a few drinks at the party.

Lucas picked out a more decent outfit, changing quickly. As he left his room, he checked his hair in the mirror. He sighed. It was already messed up beyond repair. He shrugged. His hair was never super cooperative anyway. 

Lucas wanted to leave without getting bombarded, but Mika, Lisa, and Manon were in the living room playing Guess Who.

"Do they have glasses?" Manon asked.

"Nope." Lisa shook her head.

"Lucas? What are you all dressed for?" Mika said, a suspicious smile on his face.

"I'm going out," Lucas replied. "I'll probably be back a bit late. I'll call if I need anything."

"Okay," Mika nodded. "Have fun, kitten!"

Lucas just nodded, opening the front door. As he shut it and walked down the hallway, he tried to focus on any hope he might have. He'll have fun tonight. He'll get to hang out with his friends. Maybe Eliott will finally text back and he can focus on him again. No more listening to the voice in his head, no more worrying about Eliott. Tonight, he's going to have fun, and maybe forget.

Lucas was the first of the gang to arrive at the house. The ground almost shook as music boomed inside. Lights glowed through the windows, splitting the night. There were a few people standing outside smoking and talking among themselves.

Lucas leaned against a wooden fence, letting the other boys know he was already there. He resisted the temptation to look at Eliott's messages again, diverting his attention to a game he had on his phone.

"Lucas!" he heard Basile call from the distance. He bounded over, grinning. "What's up, dude?"

Lucas forced a smile. "Pretty good. I'm excited."

"Oh, me, too," Basile agreed. "I hope Daphné's here."

"I'm sure she is," Lucas replied. "Look, I'm sorry I brought you up the other day. I don't know why I did it."

"Huh?" Basile questioned, tilting his head. "Oh, when Arthur said you were in love? No, that's fine, Lucas. I know my love life is easy to make fun of."

"Hey, but you might have a shot at Daphné tonight," Lucas pointed out. "Tonight could be the night she sees Basile in a whole new light."

Basile grinned, his eyes lighting up. He always looked so happy whenever he talked about Daphné. Even though he was creepy about his crush sometimes, Lucas could tell he genuinely cared about her. He cared about what she thought, how she was feeling. Basile was right. It was about time he got some love, too.

"Dudes!" Yann howled, Arthur in tow.

"The gang's all here!" Lucas piped up. The smile that came to his face was a bit more natural.

"This is gonna be an awesome party," Arthur said, eyeing the house eagerly. "Let's not waste precious moonlight, let's go inside."

The boys made their way to the front door, the music getting louder and the smell of alcohol and weed getting stronger. Yann, Arthur, and Basile chattered away. Lucas stayed quiet as usual, but he listened. He trailed a little bit behind them, laughing along occasionally.

Once they were inside, Basile was already scanning the crowd to find Daphné.

"Do you guys see her?" he asked the group, frowning.

"Not yet, man," Lucas replied.

"I'm gonna go find her," Basile declared, already pushing past people. He disappeared into the throng.

"Bless him," Arthur muttered as Basile wandered down a hallway. "Maybe tonight will be his lucky night."

"Imagine our little Bas in love," Lucas mused. 

"Imagine our whole gang in love," Yann added. "Basile's the only one right now, really."

Lucas bit his lip. So much for forgetting about Eliott. "I would kill for some weed right now."

"No need," Arthur replied, a mischievous smirk on his face. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a joint. "It looks like you need it more than I do."

Lucas grinned, gladly accepting the offering. As he balanced the joint between his lips, Arthur handed him a lighter. Lucas loved the sound as the paper sizzled and cracked. He closed his eyes, his chest filling with a hazy warmth.

"What would I do without you, Arthur?" Lucas sighed, smoke billowing out of his mouth as he spoke.

He welcomed the weak haze that started filtering into his mind. A little fog never hurt anyone, right? He nursed the joint, hearing Yann and Arthur chatting but not listening. A calm started to settle over him. Not enough to make him feel completely better, but enough to soothe his frayed nerves. 

"Lucas, who hurt you, man?" Yann remarked suddenly, chuckling a little.

"What do you mean?" Lucas responded, puzzled.

"You're smoking that joint like you need it to survive," Yann explained, his voice more concerned now.

Lucas shrugged. "No one's hurt me. Just a little anxious that's all."

Yann and Arthur shared a look.

"What happened to that smile from the other day?" Arthur said, trying to sound chipper.

Lucas shrugged again. "Smiles don't last forever, right? And neither do frowns. I'm okay, guys, really."

He could hear the edge in his voice, and he hated it. Whenever he spat out poison like this, that meant the voice in his head had invaded his vocal chords again. He took a long drag of the joint, hoping the smoke would burn away at least some of the enemy in his throat.

"Sorry," he muttered.

Yann clapped his hand on Lucas's shoulder. "It's okay. Just let yourself relax, man."

Lucas nodded, taking another drag.

"Guys!" Basile's weak voice piped up from somewhere in the crowd.

"Bas?" Arthur called.

Basile broke through the crowd, panting. "Guys, I can't find Daphné anywhere."

"Did you see any of the other girls?" Yann asked.

"I only saw Emma and she was with Alex," he answered, shoulders slumped. "They were eating each other's faces, as usual."

"No Alexia, Manon, Imane?" Arthur said.

"Manon stayed home." Lucas replied.

"I don't think Imane would come to a party without the rest of the girls." Yann added.

"It's weird that Alexia isn't here," Lucas muttered. "And Daphné, too, really. She likes parties."

"I know!" Basile cried, his eyes searching the crowd again. "So much for having a shot at Daphné tonight."

"She might be in the bathroom. Or maybe she hasn't shown up yet," Arthur said, trying to reassure Basile. 

Basile sighed, defeated, his hands worrying his hair. "What if she isn't in the bathroom? What if she isn't showing up?"

"Then have a drink or something," Yann suggested. "Don't let this keep you from having fun, Bas."

"Yeah, go dance, let loose!" Arthur encouraged, gesturing at the dance floor.

"Maybe later," Basile mumbled. "I'm gonna go get a drink."

Lucas watched as Basile walked off, clearly upset. A small part of him envied him for being able to mope like this. He envied him for being able to mope whenever a girl broke his heart. Lucas can't do the same tonight. His heart had been broken too, but he can't talk about it without coming out to his friends. He wasn't ready to do that in private, let alone at a party where someone might overhear him. He held his joint to his mouth, taking as deep of a breath as he can.

Forget, forget, forget.

"Hey, wait, who's that girl over there?" Yann said suddenly, pointing towards the back door. "The one in the black dress with the bangs?"

Lucas found where Yann was pointing. The girl had on a short, black dress with a white collar. She was laughing like she had just heard the funniest joke in the world. 

"I've never seen her before," Lucas replied.

"Me neither," added Arthur.

"She's not a middle schooler, is she?" Yann asked, tilting his head. 

Lucas studied the girl a moment longer. She looked a little younger. Her eyes were too bright.

"Could be," Arthur replied. "It is the end of the school year. The middle schoolers could be trying to get in as soon as they can."

"Who are you guys talking about?" Basile asked, returning with an armful of cups. "I got you all drinks, by the way."

"That girl in the corner with the bangs," Lucas answers. "Black dress, white collar."

"I haven't seen her at all," Basile said, handing out the cups. "You guys don't know her, do you?"

The girl turned her head and her eyes locked with Lucas's. He took another drag and nodded once at her. She blushed, then whispered in her friend's ear.

"She's looking at me," Lucas told the guys, forcing a smile onto his face. "Should I go talk to her?"

Forget, forget, forget.

The other boys immediately agreed, slapping his back and playfully punching his shoulder.

Lucas was already high. The fog has almost completely covered his brain, and it was starting to take his vision, too. He's probably too high to care if she tried to make a move on him. But, just in case, he swallowed his whole cup of beer in just a few gulps. Liquid courage, right?

"Wish me luck, boys," he said with a feigned confidence.

He heard the boys cheer him on as he started swimming through the crowd. The girl was still looking at him. As he got closer to her, he smiled and winked. He could almost hear her giggling.

He leaned against the wall, looking the girl directly in the eye. "You know, it's not very often a girl pulls me from across the room like this. What's your name?"

She giggled, high and squeaky. "Chloé."

"You don't go to the high school yet, do you?" Lucas asked, turning up his charm.

"No, but I will in the fall. And you're a first year, aren't you?" she returned, becoming more cool and collected.

"Yep. Fresh meat," he replied with a wink. "And don't worry about your first year. You'll get along just fine with a face like yours."

She giggled again, her cheeks bright red. The sparkle in her eyes was almost blinding. "I'm sure you've gotten along okay, too. With a face like yours."

Lucas grinned, taking a small step closer to her. The next thing he knew, she was kissing him. Her fingers pulled on his hair too tightly. Her lips were chapped. She tasted like champagne and her tongue felt rough. 

He let her pin him against the wall. He tried to kiss her back as roughly as she was kissing him. Something inside of him started to ache.

Forget, forget, forget.

He felt her unbuttoning his shirt, clumsy. Lucas pulled away, but she only started kissing his neck. He resisted the urge to push her off and run.

Forget, forget, forget.

It didn't take her long to fully unbutton his shirt. Her fingers traced the muscles in his chest. Every inch of skin she touched felt tainted. A million nerves were setting off alarm bells. 

Forget, forget, forget.

"Let's go somewhere more private," Chloé said under her breath. "There's too many people here."

Lucas didn't want to be alone with Chloé. He didn't want her to go any further than she already has. Panic started setting in. It chanted louder than all the forgets.

Run, run, run!

Chloé took his hand, leading him down the hallway. She tugged a little too hard, making his wrists ache. Lucas desperately looked around, hoping someone will rescue him, take him away... His vision was too far gone to recognize someone immediately. His only hope was that someone would recognize him and stop Chloé in her tracks.

Voices and laughter passed them by in blurs, like cars going down the highway. Lucas's mind was reeling. Everything was moving too fast, looking at Chloé made his stomach churn and his heart race, he desperately, desperately wished his best friends would come save him and wrap him in a big, warm group hug. 

Run, run, run!

Lucas heard a door open. Chloé turned sharply, tugging him harder than she probably meant to. Lucas squinted through his hazy vision. The room looked like a bedroom...

"Chloé, I—" Lucas started, fumbling horribly over such simple words.

"It's okay, come on," she cooed, kissing him again. "Come here."

Lucas felt her push him onto the bed. He swore he could throw up right then and there. Whether it was the weed or the beer or Chloé, he wasn't sure. The panic started getting louder.

RUN, RUN, RUN!

She had just started kissing him again when he found the strength to push her off. He quickly grabbed his phone and held it to his ear.

"I'm sorry, it's an emergency," he mumbled, running out of the room.

"Hey!" he heard her call from behind him.

But he shut the door.

He ran as fast as he could, shoving people aside. He had no idea where he was going, but he needed to be anywhere but in that room with Chloé. People were yelling angrily after him. He couldn't quite hear them.

His head started throbbing. His eyes watered. His throat started to burn.

He bumped right into someone, then threw up violently on their shoes. He coughed, sputtered. He felt like he couldn't breathe.

"Lucas?"

He froze. He knew that voice.

"Eliott?" he stammered out, spitting out stray vomit.

"We need to get you outside," Eliott said, worry in his voice. "You're sick."

Eliott wrapped his arm around Lucas's waist, supporting him. Lucas's knees suddenly grew weaker, and he unwillingly shifted all his weight onto Eliott.

"Are you okay?" Eliott asked, the worry from before much stronger.

"Y-yeah, sorry."

Lucas tried to walk a little, but Eliott helped him a lot. He rested his head on his shoulder, letting himself finally breathe. He closed his eyes, and all the noise and blurs faded a little.

He heard a door open, and then he felt fresh air flood over him. He breathed it in in big, grateful gulps. His anxiety finally settled, just a little. He desperately wanted to be in his bed and sleep the night away.

"Hey, Lucas, there's a little table with chairs in front of us. We can sit here."

Lucas nodded feebly. "Okay."

Eliott helped him sit down. The chair wasn't very comfortable, but he didn't care much at that point. He leaned over the side of the chair and threw up some more.

"A little too much?" Eliott asked cautiously.

Lucas shrugged. All he had was the one joint and the one cup of beer. He didn't know why he was reacting so badly.

"You can sit for a bit, but we need to get you home soon," Eliott said, rubbing Lucas's back. "Do I need to call someone?"

Lucas reached in his pocket, handing Eliott his phone. "Call Manon."

Lucas pulled his knees into his chest, closing his eyes. He felt absolutely miserable.

"Is this Manon?" Lucas heard Eliott say. "My name's Eliott, I'm a friend of Lu—no, he's okay, don't worry. He's just had a bit too much to drink, I think. He told me to call you. Okay. Where are we? Um, we're not too far from the school. Oh, okay. Okay. I can walk him home, then. No, it's no problem, really. Okay. Thank you. Bye."

Lucas had started to doze off, just a little. Eliott shook his shoulder lightly. "Lucas? Hey, I'm gonna walk you home. Do you need to sit a bit longer?"

"No, I wanna go home," Lucas mumbled. Then a small, silly smile comes to his face. "Friend, huh?"

"I like to think we're friends, right?" Eliott chuckled. "I showed you my favorite place in the city. The place I haven't shown anyone else."

"No, we're friends," Lucas nodded. "Can you help me up, please?" Lucas held out his hand limply.

Eliott took Lucas's hand, helping him get to his feet slowly. He wrapped his arm around his waist again. Lucas liked that. It felt a bit like a hug.

"So, Manon gave me some directions to your apartment," Eliott said. "Hopefully I don't get us lost."

"I wouldn't mind getting lost with you," Lucas smiled, not thinking about what he said. "That'd be nice."

Eliott didn't reply. He laughed, just barely.

"So is Manon one of your roommates?" Eliott asked after a moment of quiet.

Lucas nodded. "Manon, Mika, and Lisa."

"I'll have to meet them sometime." Lucas could hear the smile in Eliott's voice.

"You'd like Manon," Lucas replied. He was starting to feel better. "She's chill. She's sweet. Mika is Mika. He's a handful most of the time. Lisa just kinda stays in her room. But she's pretty chill, too."

Silence hung again. Lucas's mind started to clear a little. He realized that his shirt had rolled up a little, so Eliott was touching the slightest bit of exposed skin. He blushed, just a little.

"I'll address the elephant in the room," Eliott sighed. "I'm sorry I haven't answered your text."

Lucas did forget.

"I just..." Eliott continued. "I needed a break from my phone. Recharge, you know?"

"So you saw my text?" Lucas asked.

"I did. I really enjoyed that night, too. I've never made a friendship so quickly before. But I guess that's what all artists say. Art brings people together, right?"

Lucas nodded again, grinning. "It does. That's what I love about it."

Eliott hugged Lucas a little closer. "It looks like you're feeling a bit better."

"I think the whole throwing up thing helped," Lucas laughed. Then he remembered. "Wait, I threw up on you."

"Don't worry about it, Lucas," Eliott replied. "I was gonna get puked on at some point in my high school career."

"Oh, wait," Lucas started. "I should probably tell my friends I left. I don't want them to worry."

"Hand me your phone again," Eliott suggested. "Just tell me what to type."

Lucas gave Eliott his phone. "Go to the gang groupchat."

"Okay."

"Just say, 'got too drunk, heading home.'"

"Got it." 

Eliott handed back the phone. Lucas put it back in his pocket.

"I can't wait to sleep tonight," Lucas sighed wistfully. "I'm exhausted."

"I'm sure we're getting close," Eliott smiled. "Can you see a little better now? We're going the right way still, right?"

Lucas blinked a few times, then studied his surroundings. They all looked familiar. "Yeah. I think we only have three or four blocks left to walk."

"Okay, good." 

Another moment of silence passed. Lucas could just barely hear the river gurgling. But it was mostly quiet, peaceful. It wasn't awkward.

"So," Eliott began, sounding a little nervous. "Do you wanna hear my haiku now?"

Lucas beamed. He'd forgotten about that, too. "Was it harder than you thought it would be?"

Eliott sighed. "As much as I hate to admit it, yes it was. It's so hard to get a good flow between the lines!"

"Right?" Lucas laughed. "Okay, but let me hear what you got."

Eliott cleared his throat dramatically. "Blues and blacks and whites; purples and yellows and grays; a brand new rainbow."

Lucas couldn't stifle a laugh. An inhuman laugh came right out of his belly, echoing loudly off the empty street.

"What?" Eliott exclaimed, offended. "Was it that bad?"

Lucas was doubled over, tears running down his face. He thought he might throw up again. But he was laughing.

"Lucas??" Eliott cried out, starting to laugh himself.

"S-sorry," Lucas managed, only to burst into a new wave of laughter. "It's not funny, but it is."

"All right, if it's so funny, you can walk yourself home," Eliott joked, trying to act stern. "I have to get home, too, you know."

Lucas grabbed Eliott's arm. "No, it's beautiful, Eliott. It's a good idea. It just doesn't really work as a haiku, you know? It's too confined in the haiku structure. You need to give it space. Let it breathe."

"So what do I write then? A sonnet?" Eliott replied, chuckling.

"Nah, I'm the sonnet writer here," Lucas shook his head. "Leave those to me."

Eliott raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really?"

"Mm-hmm," Lucas nodded. "Shakespeare pales in comparison to my sonnets."

"Didn't Shakespeare invent sonnets?" Eliott asked, a smile still on his face.

"No, that was Francesco Petrarch. An Italian poet who invented a whole new form of poetry just for his muse, Laura, in the fourteenth century. Then Shakespeare came along and changed the rhyme scheme, turned the octave and sestet into three quatrains and a heroic couplet, and voila! There's the Petrarchan and Shakespearean sonnets. And sometimes, other poets combine both structures and make a hybrid."

Eliott shook his head in disbelief. "Nerd."

"Oh, come on," Lucas laughed. "We're all nerds about different things. And I could've gone on and on about sonnets, but I restrained myself."

"Why can't you be my literature teacher, Lucas?" Eliott asked, musing.

"I can help with that, too, if need be." Lucas replied.

Eliott laughed, grinning. And as Lucas stared at his face, his anxieties kept fading away, one by one. Tonight, Lucas didn't look to the stars for an answer, or worry about messing things up with Eliott, or worry about what his true self is like. Because Eliott is the answer. He had his answer right beside him, smiling at him. He let him ramble about poetry, he let him breathe and calm down, he walked him home after a long, rough night. Lucas could only imagine what would've happened if he had stayed with Chloé, or stayed at the party at all. He wouldn't be walking through Paris with Eliott, or hearing him laugh, or seeing him smile. He wouldn't be slowly having the best night of his life.

"Recite a Shakespearean sonnet," Eliott challenged. "Right now."

Lucas paused for a moment, but chose the first one that came into his head. "Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore, / So do our minutes hasten to their end; / Each changing place with that which goes before, / In sequent toil all forwards do contend."

"Whoa," Eliott chuckled. "You know your stuff."

"I'll skip to the best part," Lucas replied, grinning. "The heroic couplet: And yet to times in hope, my verse shall stand. / Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand."

"I've never heard that one," Eliott said, almost reverently. 

"The more famous ones are overrated," Lucas shrugged. "Sonnet 18? Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? / Thou art more lovely and more temperate, / Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. But he has so many hidden gems no one talks about."

"Did you just 'blah' in iambic pentameter?" Eliott asked, giggling.

"Maybe."

Eliott hooked his arm around Lucas, pulling him close as he laughed. He still smelled like cinnamon. Lucas closed his eyes. If only this night could last forever...

"Which sonnet was the one you quoted earlier?" Eliott asked.

"Sonnet 60."

"How many did he write?"

"154."

Eliott whistled. "I guess he had nothing better to do, huh?"

As Lucas looked up, laughing, he saw his apartment building looming over him. His heart, like a feather, slowly fluttered down to his toes. The smile fell from his face.

"This is me." Lucas said with a sigh.

"Oh," Eliott replied. He sounded disappointed, too. "Do you want me to go inside with you?"

Lucas thought for a moment, but his tongue betrayed him. "No, it's okay. I don't wanna keep you here longer than you need to."

Eliott nodded, smiling sadly. Lucas watched his face, drinking in every single detail again. He watched as Eliott lifted his head. He watched as Eliott's face drew closer and closer to his.

Lucas closed his eyes as Eliott kissed him, slowly, softly. His hands cradled his face. He was warm. He tasted sweet, cinnamon mixed with sugar and a small puff of smoke. His lips were the softest thing Lucas had ever touched. Eliott didn't shove his tongue down Lucas's throat, or kiss him so hungrily it hurt. It was pure. It was bliss. It was comfort. It was just like Lucas's dream.

Eliott pulled away far too quickly. He rested his forehead against Lucas's, letting their noses rub against each other. The smile on his face made Lucas want to move the whole world if it meant this boy standing in front of him would stay happy forever.

"Goodnight, my poet."

Chapter Text

Lucas woke up slowly, a slight headache waking him up yet keeping his eyes shut. As annoying as the headache was turning out to be, Lucas knew it could be worse. If he had drank any more than he did, or smoked more than he did, he could only imagine the state he would be in.

He didn't know how much time had passed before he decided to open his eyes. It was clearly late in the afternoon. The city outside his window was bright, but the light was beginning to fade. He was surprised Mika hadn't jumped on his bed or given him some other kind of rude awakening. Maybe Manon talked him out of it. He'll owe her big time if she did.

Lucas rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. When he looked down, he realized he was wearing pajamas. His brow furrowed. He didn't remember putting on pajamas...

He decided not to worry about and went looking for his phone. It was sitting on his desk. He turned it on and saw the dozens of messages from the gang groupchat light up. He sighed, deciding to go ahead and read and answer them.

Basile: TELL US ABOUT THAT GIRL

Arthur: Basile calm down

Arthur: But I AM curious who was she???

Yann: Guys I think we should be worrying more about Lucas's health than his love life

Yann: Are you feeling better?

Basile: Lucas??? Are you dead????

Arthur: It would suck if he was dead

Yann: He's not dead

Arthur: How do YOU know that?

Yann: I think Manon would have told us if he died

Basile: What if she's so in grief that she hasn't told anyone?

Lucas smiled. As dumb and chaotic as his friends were, they always made him laugh. He quickly texted back.

Lucas: Guys I'm not dead lol

Basile: LUCAS IT'S YOU

Arthur: UR ALIVE

Yann: I TOLD YOU GUYS

Lucas: The girl's name was Chloé, and she's in middle school. She wasn't really my type. We just kissed.

Lucas: Also I am feeling better thank you Yann

Basile: Hey we were worried too!!!

Lucas: Fine

Lucas: Thank you Arthur and Basile

Arthur: !!!!

Basile: Wait are you serious? You only kissed the middle school girl?

Lucas sighed. Here we go.

Lucas: I just wasn't feeling the spark, you know?

Arthur: It was a party, Lucas, you don't need to have an emotional connection

Lucas: I know, but I was starting to feel sick anyways so I left and went home

Yann: By yourself?

Eliott grinning, Eliott laughing, Eliott waxing poetic about how the night sky is like a new rainbow. Lucas's heart beating faster, Lucas rambling about poetry, Lucas reciting a sonnet. Eliott kissing him...

Lucas: Yeah

Lucas studied an unfamiliar taste in his mouth as more texts poured in. Cinnamon, sugar, smoke. Isn't that what Eliott tasted like? Lucas searched through his memories from the night before. He remembered Eliott leaning in, his breath in Lucas's face. He remembered their lips finally brushing against its each other. He remembered the taste. But he remembered nothing else.

Was the kiss even real? Did it really happen?

Arthur: If you were as drunk as you say you were I'm surprised you remember this much

Lucas almost snorted. Dramatic irony, right? He'd suddenly realized he doesn't quite remember the first time he's ever kissed a boy, and Arthur is asking how Lucas remembered so much from last night. Kissing Eliott, kissing a boy, the thing he'd wanted to do for so long, and the memories are as vague and thin as smoke.

Lucas: I dunno man I guess my tolerance was just low last night

Lucas: Listen guys I just woke up and I'm not in the mood for an interrogation

Yann: Wait Lucas

Yann: Emma just texted me and said she saw you leaving last night with one of Alex's friends

Lucas's heart dropped.

Lucas: You know how Emma is she was probably so drunk she thought I was someone else

Yann: But Alex saw you too

Yann: And he knows it was you and one of his friends

Yann: Eliott

Lucas's head started throbbing. He tried to think of some sort of excuse.

Basile: Who's Eliott?

Lucas: Nobody

Arthur: ?

Lucas: Okay look I lied he walked home with me but he was just being nice

Lucas: We're barely friends

Just being nice. He was just walking Lucas home, making sure he was safe. He was just being a good friend. He wasn't trying to spend more time with Lucas. He didn't have some ulterior, romantic motive. He didn't kiss Lucas with that same gentleness, carefulness. He didn't taste like cinnamon and sugar and smoke. He didn't cup Lucas's face in his warm, strong hands as if he were holding something precious. He didn't tell Lucas "goodnight, my poet," with a voice so sweet and fragile Lucas was afraid to breathe in case he would shatter it. He didn't smile like he was the happiest man in the world after he muttered those fateful words. It was simple. Eliott walked him home, they talked, Lucas went inside, then he went to sleep. Everything else was just some stupid dream, wishful thinking.

Lucas threw his phone to the side, anger and sadness bubbling up inside of him at once. He didn't know which was worse. Knowing he had dreamed up the kiss with Eliott, or the fear that Eliott really did kiss him, and that everything he felt in that moment would be real. Everything he felt before the kiss would be real. He really felt his anxieties melting away every time Eliott smiled. He really felt like he could tell Eliott anything. He really felt so free and relieved to finally, finally be himself. And, when Eliott kissed him, his heart did somersaults and opened wider than it ever had before. Lucas was blossoming last night. And if Eliott really did kiss him, there was no going back now. And that terrified him. How was he supposed to keep hiding when his true self started taking up more space?

But at the same time, if Eliott didn't kiss him, he had all these expectations from his dream. Even if Eliott actually liked him and kissed him for real, what if their first kiss wasn't as magical as Lucas dreamed it would be? What if Eliott's lips aren't as soft, or he tasted sour or bitter? What if his hands are rough, too strong? What if his voice doesn't sound like the gentlest, softest piano piece? There was too much Lucas wanted, expected. He can't do that to Eliott. That wouldn't be fair to him to try so hard to please Lucas. What if this dream made Lucas selfish, demanding? What if it made him unlovable, unbearable? What if it made Eliott hate him? What if it made Eliott want to find someone else to proofread his script? Lucas can't lose Eliott. Not like that. Not when it's so out of his control.

Arthur: Wait did you actually know this guy before the party?

Basile: Yeah you didn't let some random stranger walk you home right? Don't you remember those stranger danger assemblies from elementary school?

Lucas sighed. He really didn't want to talk about this with them.

Lucas: Relax I know him kinda he wasn't some stranger

Lucas: I have to go do some homework now so please don't ask any more questions

Lucas left the gang groupchat, looking for his messages with Eliott. He needed to know what happened last night. He dreaded the thought of either possibility being true, but he wasn't sure how he could handle living in the dark like this. 

His thumbs hovered over the keyboard, trying to figure out the best possible way to ask Eliott about this. He was still trying to make up his mind when a text from Eliott popped on the screen.

Eliott: hey i just wanted to check on you. i'm assuming you got some sleep at least lol

Lucas let himself smile.

Lucas: Yeah I woke up like fifteen minutes ago haha

Eliott: that's good to hear! also i was wondering if we could work on the script today. your place?

Lucas froze for a moment. He wanted to help Eliott. He wanted to see what all he had done with the script. He wanted them to smile and laugh for a bit. But he needed to talk about last night. Could he work it in at the end, before Eliott leaves? That way, no matter what happens, he'd get to be with him one last time and everything will be normal.

Eliott: it's totally okay if you can't i know this was last-minute

Lucas: No, no, it's okay! Just remember my roommates are a little crazy lol

Eliott: that's okay too! when's a good time for me to come over? in like thirty minutes?

Thirty minutes?! Lucas thought, floored. He still needed to get ready, and he should really clean his room, too. Could he do that in thirty minutes?

Eliott: i know that's early it's just that i have somewhere to be tonight and i want to get as much work done as possible you know?

Lucas: Thirty minutes is okay! I'll see you then!

Lucas immediately dropped his phone and started cleaning his room. His mom always made him clean his room whenever he had a friend over, and it sort of became a habit, but a large part of him just wanted to make a good impression for Eliott. He felt like he was preparing his own death bed, in a way. His entire friendship with Eliott could end right here.

But why was he thinking like this? Like everything is ending? Why is his dumb head trying to ruin everything?

Lucas shook his head. He needed to focus on cleaning. Cleaning could be a distraction.

The main obstacle was the floor. Lucas had a little trash can in his room, but he rarely used it. Most of the trash on the floor was crumpled up papers from homework and studying sessions, but there was dirty laundry, candy wrappers, dead Sharpies, among other things. If he just hurried, he'd have it all cleaned up in no time.

He started by picking up his dirty laundry, but he had only gotten a few old shirts when he had tripped on a pencil. He fell backwards, landing on his butt with a loud thud.

"Lucas? Are you okay in there?" Mika called from outside the door.

Lucas quickly got to his feet, picking up everything he dropped. He made sure to get the pencil he tripped on, too. He was about to reply, but Mika showed himself in.

"Mika!" Lucas groaned.

Mika gasped dramatically. "Lucas! You're cleaning?!"

"Yeah," Lucas replied, annoyed. "I have a friend coming over, so I'm cleaning."

He had started picking up more things when he saw a flash out of the corner of his eye. His head snapped up. Mika had his phone out, a stupid grin on his face.

"Did you seriously take a picture?" Lucas asked, clenching his free hand into a fist.

"Yes! This is a special occasion!" Mika's voice lowered. "And who's this 'friend'?"

"The one I study with," Lucas replied, quick and curt. "Can you please leave now? I still have a lot to do."

Mika raised his hands defensively. "Okay! I'll leave it to you, kitten."

Lucas sighed in relief as Mika closed the door behind him. He gathered everything off of his floor, put his dirty laundry in his hamper, and threw away all the trash. His floor was practically spotless. He quickly made his bed, smoothing out wrinkles. He checked his phone again. It took him twenty minutes to clean his room. He groaned to himself.

He ran over to his closet, grabbing a t-shirt and jeans. Normally, he'd take a little more time planning his outfit, but he didn't have time. He got dressed as quickly as he could. He checked his phone again. He has five minutes to brush his teeth and fix his hair. 

He ran to the bathroom, scrubbing his teeth within an inch of their lives. At least they were clean. The next big obstacle was his hair. It was so thick that it was hard to tame, but he was gonna try as hard as he could today. Eliott can't see him with bedhead. He was about to start fixing it when the doorbell rang.

An image flooded Lucas's mind. Mika answers the door and starts talking Eliott's ear off. He'll probably hit on him, putting his arm around him. Manon will be as sweet as ever, asking if he wants tea or something. She'll laugh at Mika's flirtations. Lisa will sit in the corner, looking confused as always. Worst case scenario, she'll actually try and talk to Eliott. She'll ask a lot of questions, and no matter what answer you give her, she'll still look clueless. And who could imagine how Eliott will feel? Uncomfortable, awkward, claustrophobic.

Lucas ran out of the bathroom and skidded to a stop in the living room. He was too late.

The scene looked like a gothic Baroque painting. At the center was Eliott, with Mika hovering over his shoulder. Mika, as Lucas predicted, had his arm around Eliott's shoulder. He pulled him in close, like a half-hug. Eliott looked very uncomfortable, but he was obviously entertaining Mika. Manon stood to Mika's right, arms folded, back straight as a princess balancing books on her head. She was beaming, laughing at whatever Mika was saying. Eliott started looking at Manon uncertainly. She just shrugged at him. Then, finally, in the very corner, was Lisa. She stared at Eliott, looking like she was solving the most difficult puzzle in the world. Her back was hunched and she was scratching her head. She shrugged, then walked off.

Lucas sprung into the scene, grabbing Eliott. "Hey, sorry. Let's go to my room."

He instinctively grabbed Eliott's hand. He wanted to yank it away, but Eliott gripped tighter. His hand was soft, strong. Lucas's heart fluttered in his chest.

"You were right when you said your roommates were a little crazy." Eliott chuckled. His smile wasn't as wide as it used to be.

Lucas sighed, nodding. "Sorry they bombarded you."

"No, they're pretty cool," Eliott replied. "Manon seemed really nice. She offered me tea."

Lucas laughed. "I figured she would."

Lucas opened the door to his room, letting Eliott through first.

"I thought you said your room looked like a bomb went off in it," Eliott said jokingly. "This is the tidiest room I've ever seen."

"Spring cleaning?" Lucas managed, not so smoothly. "And you can just sit on my bed."

Eliott sat down carefully as if he was afraid of messing it up. He shrugged his backpack off his shoulders, getting out his laptop. Lucas plopped down next to him, making sure he didn't stare at Eliott. His mind was weirdly quiet.

"Um," Eliott started, opening the document. "I kinda added some extra stuff on my own if you wanna read it."

Lucas's eyebrows shot up. "Hey, that's good! I'd love to read it."

"It's the sectioned highlighted in yellow," Eliott explained, handing Lucas his laptop.

Lucas let himself study Eliott for a moment. He had a smile on his face, but it was so tiny Lucas couldn't tell it was a smile at first. His back was even more slouched than Lisa's. His voice was quieter, too, and not like when he said "goodnight, my poet." It seemed meek, despondent. Lucas turned his attention to the laptop, hoping Eliott didn't notice his staring. He studied the page.

MAN.

What's it like in there? Is it cold?

FIGURE.

No, not really. Why would it be cold?

MAN.

I don't know. Out here that's what they say the dark is like. Cold.

FIGURE.

Why?

MAN (shrugging).

I think it's because they say monsters live in the dark. And when you see a monster and you get scared, your blood feels like it's turning to ice. And they always say light is warmth, and since there's no light, there's no warmth.

FIGURE.

I've never seen a monster here. And my blood never turns to ice. And who's to say there's something between cold and warmth? Maybe I live in that middle ground. But... What does warmth feel like?

MAN.

It feels like waking up from a long, Sunday nap. It feels like a new pair of socks. It feels like a hug from your best friend or someone you love very much.

(A beat.)

FIGURE.

What's a hug?

(Tears well in MAN's eyes. Suddenly all he wants is to give FIGURE a hug, the tightest hug he could possibly give. But he hesitates. He can't enter into the dark.)

MAN.

It's when you go up to someone, and you put your arms around them, and they put their arms around you. You're trapping each other, but in a good way. You hug when someone is sad, and it makes them feel better. Or you can hug when you're really happy to see someone. You can hug anyone for any reason, really.

(Tears well in FIGURE's eyes. Suddenly all they want is to give MAN a hug, the tightest hug they could possibly give. But they hesitate. They can't enter into the light.)

FIGURE.

That sounds nice. Maybe we can hug someday. Once we're not afraid anymore.

MAN.

Yeah. Maybe.

Lucas paused as he reached the end of the highlighted section, his eyes misty. He blinked the tears away. He couldn't tell if he was crying because of the script, or the fact that the boy he might have kissed last night was sitting right next to him.

"You've broken me again, Demaury," Lucas admitted, adding a light chuckle. "I don't know how you do it."

Eliott smiled, but it was cracked, distorted. "Maybe you're just a crybaby and you refuse to admit it."

Lucas laughed, shrugging. "Maybe."

"Is it that good?" Eliott asked, a bit more serious.

Lucas nodded, the tears coming back. "It adds to the tragedy. Figure is getting a deeper look into the other world and realizing it has something they want. It gives them motivation, drive. If they overcome their fear, they can hug Man. And Man is the same way, too. They have a shared motivation now. And, can you imagine a world without hugs? How lonely would that be?"

Eliott nodded, not saying a word. Lucas noticed his eyes were a little more gray today, a little darker. He wondered if his eyes looked different, too, knowing their relationship was suddenly hanging in the balance. And what was making Eliott's eyes slowly, slowly dim? And what made them light up like stars?

Their dimming eyes met as Eliott turned his head, and Lucas's chest was flooded with a deep, throbbing ache. There was something in Eliott's eyes, something in the looming darkness. The only word Lucas could think of to describe it was pain. An innate, primal pain that lives inside of everyone. The kind that shows up when you feel like you can't survive anymore. Your life is in danger and your world is falling apart. And Lucas understood that pain. As much as he hated admitting it, he knew that pain far too well. It was the pain he felt almost every day as he braced the war between his head and his heart.

Lucas couldn't bear to look into Eliott's eyes anymore. He pretended to look at something on his phone. But that ache still sat heavy in his chest. It was harder to breathe. He could feel Eliott's eyes on him. He shivered at the thought of turning around and looking at him again.

"We should keep working," Lucas managed. "I can put on some music, maybe."

Eliott nodded. "That sounds good."

Lucas took his phone out of his pocket, pulling up Spotify. He decided to shuffle his playlist of all his favorite songs. He set his phone to the side, taking a deep breath. He couldn't take it anymore. He needed the answer only Eliott could give him.

"Eliott?" he choked out, his voice so quiet he wasn't sure if he'd even spoken.

"Lucas?" Eliott returned, his voice audible but laden with tears.

"What do you remember from last night?"

Lucas finally worked up the courage to look back at Eliott. He was smiling sadly, but the smallest spark was back inside his eyes.

"Well, you threw up all over my shoes," Eliott began, chuckling. "I took you outside for some fresh air. You said you wanted to go home, so I walked you home. I recited my haiku for you and you laughed so hard I was scared you were gonna break a rib. Then you talked about all your sonnets and recited this really obscure one. Then we got to your apartment."

Eliott trailed off, looking down at his lap.

"Did you kiss me last night?" Lucas asked, a single tear rolling down his cheek. He bit his lip to keep more tears away until his lip bled.

Eliott smiled his sad smile again. But he looked Lucas in the eye and nodded. "You were in a daze afterwards. You were acting like I put a spell on you or something. I was so afraid I freaked you out, but you couldn't stop smiling, and your eyes were shining. I would kill to see you like that again."

Biting his lip wasn't enough to keep Lucas from crying. Hot tears were running down his face. Everything he hoped for, and everything he feared the most, was true. It was real.

Lucas felt Eliott's hand against his cheek, wiping away his tears. Lucas grabbed Eliott's other hand, holding it to the other side of his face. Eliott's hands were still soft, still strong.

Lucas closed his eyes, and he saw the trail of stars from his dream. He followed each one, step by step, until he felt Eliott's lips against his.

I love you, I love you, I love you...

Cinnamon, sugar, smoke. The softest thing Lucas had ever touched. Purity, bliss, comfort.

Everything was gentle, slow. Lucas smiled as Eliott kissed him back. Eliott twirled a small lock of Lucas's hair around his finger, tugging on it ever so slightly. A breeze sneaked through the window, rippling the curtains like a silky ribbon. The music gracefully echoed and glided off of the walls like a stream of water. They were in paradise, where time is slowed down. Where colors are brighter yet soft, where skin is warm and smooth, where mouths silently sing their hymns. Where everything is perfect. Where they can lie like this forever. Where hunger is satisfied by your lover's lips kissing your forehead. Where thirst is quenched by your lover's breath tickling your ear, your neck.

Lucas's hand drifted down to Eliott's chest. He could feel his heartbeat bleeding through the cool, soft fabric of his shirt. Each beat kissed the calluses on his fingers, the maze of his fingerprints. It reached for the pulse humming in Lucas's wrist, calling out the name hidden in his blood. He pulled Eliott closer to him, hugging him tightly. Their hearts bled together, the names they were chanting becoming one song, one name.

Eliott pulled away, his lips fluttering down Lucas's neck, across his collarbone. He breathed slowly, the air settling in his lungs thick with love and some kind of magic. If only this heavenly air hovered over the whole earth, he thought. Clouds would blush, mountains would grin, oceans would rejoice, cities would sing, children would laugh. Maybe this air in his lungs could be the air in their paradise, their world. 

Can I try again, try again, try again?

Lucas lifted Eliott's chin, cradling his face. He kissed him again, faster, deeper. He had his tongue in Eliott's mouth, his hand weaving through his hair. The ache in his chest was replaced by the comforting weight of Eliott on top of him. How could he ever have been afraid of this? Loving Eliott was soft, but powerful. It was a quiet rumble that shook the whole earth. It reminded him of a faraway thunderstorm. He used to be afraid of thunderstorms, but if every storm was like this, he would gladly let every last drop of rain soak him down to his bones. He would welcome the thunder as it whispered in his ear. He would wait patiently for the clouds to darken, the clouds to fatten up, the wind to become cold and sharp. And when the time came, he would let the storm drown him.

Lucas hadn't realized he was crying again until Eliott started kissing the tears off his cheeks. He couldn't remember the last time he cried tears of joy like this. Had he ever? He started crying harder, his body trembling. Eliott pulled away, concerned. His eyes were blue again. Lucas pulled him into a hug, kissing his hair and grabbing onto his shirt. He heard Eliott sniffle, felt one of his tears fall on his shoulder.

"'And yet to times in hope, my verse shall stand," Lucas recited through his tears. "'Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.' I want that for us, Eliott."

Eliott pulled away, turning to lie next to Lucas. "You could create the Lallamentian sonnet, just for us."

Lucas grinned. "And Petrarch and Shakespeare will turn in their graves when they realize I've outdone them. And Laura and Anne Hathaway will forever lament that they are not the most loved people in history."

Eliott rubbed his nose against Lucas's, smiling that same smile he did last night. "You know how I said I would kill to see you like you were last night?"

Lucas nodded.

"Last night was nothing compared to right now," Eliott confessed. "I've never seen a person glow like you before. I don't want to think about the lengths I would go to if it meant you would always glow like this. I think I would go father than any human being has ever gone."

Lucas smiled, slowly. He closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against Eliott's. "And I, you."

Silence fell, thick and full and comfortable. Eliott ran his thumb over Lucas's cheek, Lucas traced Eliott's jawline.

"Um, I hate to ruin the mood," Eliott started with a smile. "But what happened to the music?"

Lucas turned, reaching for his phone. He chuckled. "My phone's dead."

Eliott laughed, too, his eyes squinting and his nose wrinkling. Lucas loved it when his face did that.

Lucas lied back down next to Eliott. "Doesn't matter," he mumbled. "You make everything inside of me sing."

Eliott smiled. "And I, you."

Chapter Text

Lucas was half-awake, Eliott's fingers weaving through his hair and lulling him to sleep. They were still lying in his bed, the sheets wrinkled, their shirts lying on the floor, their legs tangled together. Neither of them spoke. The only sound was their slow, steady breathing. Lucas snuggled closer to Eliott, his head on his chest. He wondered if it would hurt when Eliott finally had to leave, and their hearts would be torn apart, begging for the other to stay. He wondered if his fingers would miss the smooth massage of Eliott's heart, too. He wondered how much he would miss Eliott, no matter how long it would be until they saw each other again. Lucas turned his head, kissing Eliott's ribs, hoping he could time it just right to where his lips could kiss Eliott's heart as it beat against his bones. He felt the slightest beat against his lips, and he smiled. He cuddled even closer to Eliott, sighing contentedly.

"I could write a million sonnets about you," Lucas mumbled, the words leaping out of his mouth, carefree. "Nine-hundred ninety-nine thousand, and... However many more than Shakespeare wrote."

"Oh, yeah?" Eliott, replied, chuckling. "Have you written any yet?"

"I started one the morning after we went to the tunnel," Lucas answered, his voice a little clearer. "I had a dream about you that night. It was all beautiful and poetic, so I thought it would make a good sonnet."

"You had a dream about me? The first night we hung out?" Eliott was laughing, but there was something soft, gentle in his voice. "You were really in love with me, huh?"

"I am really in love with you," Lucas retorted, blushing. "And my dream made me realize that being in love with you isn't... wrong or ugly. Loving you could be beautiful."

"What was the dream like?" Eliott asked.

Lucas smiled as all the images reappeared behind his eyelids. "I was floating in the sky on a muggy, summer night. I look down, and I see a forest of trees. The bark is silver, and the leaves are gold and dripping diamonds. I float to the ground, and I eat the diamonds from the trees. They're made of sugar. And the grass below me is made of gold, too, but ribbons of it. They tickle as I walk along. Then I hear what sounds like a stream, so I follow the noise. I get to this clearing, and there's this river of milk in front of me. I drink from it, and it's warm and sweet and thick. I drink the river half-dry. And when I look up, I see a city in the distance, a skyline. The lights start trembling, then they fly towards me. They're a bunch of little fireflies. They teach me their language, and they dance around me, and I talk and laugh with them. I blink and they're back in the skyline, in their own little spots. I look up, and I see the night sky. It turns into a million puzzle pieces, and they move beneath my finger. When they came together, I saw your face. And the moon was your mouth. I fly up to you and kiss you. You tasted like cheese and something like love."

"What does love taste like?" Eliott asked, his voice quiet.

Lucas thought for a moment. "It tastes like... homemade chocolate chips, fresh out of the oven. Like, they're still steaming a bit."

"That combined with cheese?" Eliott chuckled.

"I didn't care how they tasted together," Lucas said, shaking his head. "All that mattered is that you were kissing me."

Eliott didn't speak, but Lucas swore he could hear him smile. 

"And you wrote a sonnet about that dream?"

"I only wrote one quatrain," Lucas replied. "But it was so easy. Sonnets are notoriously hard to write, for me anyways, but when I was writing about you, it felt like breathing. I was in some sort of trance. And when I snapped out of it, I had a whole quatrain written with no mistakes, no word changes, nothing. The meter was perfect, the rhymes were perfect. That's never happened before."

"Are you gonna finish it?"

Lucas shrugged. "I don't know. Kissing you for real was nothing like it was in my dream. I'd rather write about us, in real life, awake."

Lucas felt Eliott kiss the top of his head, his hair. "You'll have to show it to me sometime. When you write it."

"You'll be the first to see it," Lucas promised. "And maybe, if it's good enough, you'll be the only one to see it."

"Really?"

Lucas nodded. "Every writer has at least one piece that they'll never show another soul. And it's not necessarily because it's bad, but it's because if someone else saw it, they would know your every nook and cranny of your soul. And that's terrifying for anyone, you know? And sometimes, it's just so precious to you that you want it to be yours. No one else's. Maybe, if I only write 999,999 sonnets, and only one can be ours, I wouldn't mind at all."

"I can't imagine being a writer," Eliott sighed. "But I can imagine falling in love with one."

Lucas grinned. "You know, being a writer isn't my entire personality," He lifted his heavy eyelids, his vision becoming crystal clear once he saw Eliott's face. There was barely a hint of gray in his eyes. They were filled with light blue, a glimpse at heaven. His pink lips held the smile of someone completely at peace, completely in love. Maybe, a few years from now, Lucas will wake up seeing that face every morning.

"I know it's not," Eliott replied, playfully rolling his eyes. "What's the rest of your personality like, then?"

Lucas traced the tattoo on Eliott's chest absentmindedly. He smiled as a thought came to his head. "I'm gay."

Eliott snorted. "I never would've guessed!"

Lucas shrugged. "I mean, that's pretty much the other 50% of my personality."

"That's it? A gay writer?" Eliott asked, still laughing so hard his eyes and nose were squinted and wrinkled.

"Hey, the gay writers are the best ones!" Lucas argued.

"Give me some examples, then." Eliott challenged.

"Mary Oliver, Virginia Woolf, Jane Austen, Oscar Wilde, Emily Dickinson, Tennessee Williams, Leonard Bernstein—"

"Wasn't he a composer?" Eliott interrupted.

"Hey, he was an author, too," Lucas bit back. He continued counting on his fingers. "Lord Byron, Alison Bechdel, Sappho, Gertrude Stein. And there's definitely more, I just can't think of them."

Eliott nodded, satisfied with Lucas's answer. "Is there anything else I should know about you, Mr. Lallament?"

Lucas sighed, thinking. "I'm good at science. I just forget to study sometimes."

Eliott chuckled at that.

"I like knowing the origin of things, how they work. That's why I like science. It gives me all those answers."

"I've never met someone who's good at English and science," Eliott marveled. "How do you feel about math?"

"I hate it," Lucas replied immediately. "It's the one class I don't like."

"That's fair," Eliott nodded. "I was never a school person. I do well in my classes, but I don't enjoy them."

"It's fine," Lucas said, then added with a smile, "You'll be a famous filmmaker one day. You don't need school."

Eliott grinned. "I hope so. But you'll definitely be a famous writer. You'll win every award possible. Every book you write will be turned into a high-budget movie with A-list actors. One day you'll write a book with just the word 'hi' written in it and it'll still end up on the New York Times bestsellers' list. Then, one day, we'll make a movie together. You write, I direct. I think Daphné and Basile should star. It'll be an adorkable romcom. It's a box office hit, but it'll flop at the Oscars. But we won't care. We love it. It's our baby."

Lucas grinned at the fantasy, burying his face in Eliott's chest. "What made you want to make movies, Eliott?"

Eliott sighed, a little lost in thought. "I've always wanted to, really. My parents always had a huge movie collection, and we watched movies all the time. As I got older, I loved how movies can be silent yet deafening. Like in a romance when the two lovers are staring at each other, and the look in their eyes tells you more than dialogue or narration ever could. I wanted to be subtle like that, emphasize that look in two lovers' eyes."

"I'm too in love with words to exchange it for a pretty picture," Lucas shrugged. But that was what he knew. "That's what I hate about film class. Mlle. Moreau could compliment my script all she wanted but my words won't matter because all the audience will ever see is the picture."

"You know there's no movie without a script, right?" Eliott asked with a chuckle. "I can sort of understand your frustration, but the script is essential."

"How many times has an actor improv'd? How many times has a script been so obsolete they don't even use it anymore? Why spend all that time writing a script when it might not even be used?"

Eliott pursed his lips. His fingers paused as they weaved through Lucas's hair. "How about this? When we make our movie, we have to follow the script, word for word?"

Lucas smiled, looking back up at him. "Okay. I can do that."

"And what made you want to write books?" Eliott asked, looking at Lucas as if he was the most precious thing in the world.

Lucas blushed, a little embarrassed. "Harry Potter."

Eliott chuckled. "Of course you're a Harry Potter nerd."

"I started reading the books when I was in, like, kindergarten," Lucas recalled fondly. "And I watched all the movies and I wrote little fanfictions. I begged my mom for a wand, a Slytherin t-shirt or scarf. One year I tried to make her bleach my hair so I could be Draco Malfoy for Halloween. She wasn't having it, so I was a little brunet Draco."

"Slytherin, huh?" Eliott questioned, eyebrow raised.

"Are you surprised?" Lucas replied, fascinated.

"A little," Eliott admitted. "Which one am I?"

Lucas grinned. "Definitely a Hufflepuff."

"The lame house?" Eliott groaned.

"Hufflepuffs aren't lame!" Lucas cried, offended. "Frankly, I'm envious of their loyalty, their passion, their idealism. All I have is ambition and a slightly skewed moral compass."

Eliott grinned back. "All right. But you were saying?"

"Well, now I'm a little ashamed to admit all this now that JK Rowling has decided to be the scum of the earth, but I would be dumb to ignore the influence it's had on me. I discovered a whole new world in those books and I wanted to find more. So I read more and more books and wrote more and more fanfiction. But then I started creating my own worlds, not infiltrating into other people's. And those worlds I made were different because they were mine. Maybe one day I'll write a book with a story a bit like ours. A lonely boy meeting another boy and suddenly he's not lonely anymore."

Eliott nodded, a small, sweet smile on his face.

"And honestly," Lucas continued with a smirk. "If 6-year-old Lucas saw a true gay Dumbledore in the books and the movies he would've figured it out a lot sooner."

Eliott laughed out loud, his eyes squinting and nose wrinkling. His laughter sounded like music, like the middle C key Lucas used to play over and over on the piano in his family's living room. Crisp, soothing. He couldn't help himself anymore. He adjusted his body to where he could kiss Eliott. It was a slow, tired kiss, their lips barely brushing against each other. Lucas rested his forehead against Eliott's, closing his eyes. He would give up everything in the universe to stay here forever.

"What does this make us?" he asked carefully, opening his eyes again.

"What do you want us to be?" Eliott seemed tense as he asked his question, his eyes flighty.

Lucas sighed wistfully. "More than friends, I hope."

Eliott grinned, almost in relief. "More than friends would be nice."

Lucas smiled, too, but it quickly withered. "What about Lucille?"

Eliott's smile disappeared, too. "What about her?"

Lucas saw gray creep back into Eliott's eyes. He had struck a nerve. "Are you two still together?"

Eliott nodded. "Yeah."

Lucas nodded back. He chose his next words carefully. "Do you want to break up with her?"

"Of course I do," Eliott replied, puffing stray hair out of his face. "It's just... complicated."

Lucas reached, playing with a slightly curled lock of Eliott's hair. "Okay."

"I feel like nothing will change with her, even if we break up," Eliott began, his voice becoming more frantic as he continued. "She's such a worrier, but she treats me like I'm helpless, or like I need her 24/7. I wanted a girlfriend, not a babysitter. But if I break up with her, I'll still have a babysitter. She doesn't understand that I don't need her all the time. She doesn't understand that I can make my own decisions. I don't need her opinion. She doesn't care about anything I do. She only cares about me being an obedient boyfriend. She doesn't trust me to be by myself anymore. And I'm sick of it. I don't need her."

The last time I left you alone, you—

Lucas blinked the memory away, focusing on Eliott's face. He had a deep, sinking feeling in his stomach.

"Every time I work up the courage to tell her it's over, something stops me," Eliott continued, a little calmer. "We're too used to each other. We know each other too well. We have too much hope for each other."

Lucas nodded, showing Eliott that he was listening. But Eliott was silent, he stared off somewhere over Lucas's shoulder. He closed his eyes, releasing a deep breath.

Lucas bit his lip. Guilt started eating away at him. If he had known things had been so complicated with Lucille, he never would've kissed Eliott earlier. But, the thing was, he did know. And yet he kissed Eliott as if his life depended on it, until his lips were turning blue. 

"Eliott," Lucas blurted. "If you break up with Lucille, it won't be because of me, right?"

Eliott opened his eyes, his brow furrowed. "Lucas, I have more than one reason. I know you just heard me a minute ago. And I'm sorry, but you're one of them. You can't deny that."

Lucas's mouth went dry. He fought back memories with Emma and Yann, but they were persistent. The cheating, the jealousy, the lying, the guilt... He never wanted to go through something like that again. But he already was. Last year, he was just some invisible hand, interfering anonymously. He kept himself somewhat distanced from it. But now, he was in the middle of everything. He kissed someone who was already taken, and that was more selfish than what he did to Emma and Yann. History was repeating itself, and he hadn't realized it until it was too late.

"Lucas, relax," Eliott said, snapping Lucas out of his trance. He was laughing. "You look like you're gonna be sick."

Lucas tore himself from Eliott's gaze. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"Look, I cheated first, okay?" Eliott sighed, as if Lucas's worry was a burden to him. "I kissed you first. You were an accomplice, then."

Lucas bit back something like, but I tempted you enough to make you want to kiss me.

"Be honest," Eliott continued. Lucas winced. "Would you have kissed me today if I hadn't kissed you last night?"

Something twinged, snapped in Lucas's chest. He shook his head weakly.

"Exactly. So it's not completely your fault. Relax."

Lucas nodded, but he could feel his heart racing. That wasn't supposed to happen around Eliott, not like this.

Eliott started running his fingers through Lucas's hair again, but it didn't help much to settle his nerves. He closed his eyes, hoping it would somehow shut out the rest of the world. He desperately wished he could be back in that drowsy, blissful self he was just a few minutes ago.

"I want to be with you, Lucas," Eliott whispered into his hair. "Only you."

"I want to be with you, too," Lucas whispered back. Deep down, he meant it, but the words were bitter on his tongue. "Only you."

Eliott's phone started ringing. Lucas felt like sighing in relief.

"Hey," Eliott said as he answered the phone. "I'll be there in a few minutes, okay? Something came up... I know... Yes, I know... Okay... See you in a bit. Bye."

Lucas knew who it was. He could just barely hear her voice, but the way Eliott was talking made it obvious, too. Lucille.

"Hey, so," Eliott started, taking Lucas's hands. "I've gotta go. But I want us to have a date. A real date. No work, no script writing. Just us. I want us to go back to the tunnel, but in the daytime. Like, around noon. There's sunlight everywhere. And the sunlight makes all the leaves look yellow. It's like a bit of autumn, but in the summer. What do you say?"

Lucas forced a smile. "Okay."

Eliott held his hand to Lucas's face, his thumb tracing his cheekbone. He was smiling, sweet and beautiful as ever. "One last kiss before I go?"

Lucas nodded. Eliott's eyes lit up, and he crashed his lips into Lucas's. The kiss was quick but deep. Eliott tousled Lucas's hair, giving him one last smile. Then he put on his shirt, gathered his things, and left the room without looking back.

As the door creaked shut, Lucas felt a deep, hollow ache in his chest. 

Lucas didn't sleep after Eliott left. He couldn't. He distracted himself by scrolling through Instagram and watching random YouTube videos. It worked for a bit, but as time crept past slowly, he felt himself slowly going insane. He wanted to text Eliott, even considered calling him for a few minutes, but he didn't know what he would say. He studied his contact photo for him, one Eliott sent to him and requested be used. It was a selfie, where Eliott was winking and had his tongue sticking out. Lucas smiled as his eyes followed the sweep of Eliott's hair, the line down his nose, the shape of his jawline. Even with only one eye open, there was enough light inside it to illuminate Paris for a whole night. As Lucas's gaze worked its way down to Eliott's tongue, all he could think about was the words that tongue spoke the night before.

Relax,

You were an accomplice,

Would you have kissed me today if I hadn't kissed you last night?

I want to be with you, Lucas,

Only you.

He blinked, realizing light was starting to peek out of his window. He heard something moving outside his door, and he assumed it was Manon. She was always awake early.

He checked the time on his phone, and it was almost 7 in the morning. He sighed, trying not to think about how Eliott kept him up worrying all night. He opened his messages with him, typing out a quick text. Hopefully it wasn't too early.

Lucas: I had the most amazing time last night. I can't wait to hang out with you again! I'm free any time.

He hit send before he could think too much about it, dropping his phone beside him. He really did have an amazing time. Last night, for the first time in his life, he knew what true love truly felt like. True love was in the silence in his chest when his heart skipped a beat, it was in every wrinkle in Eliott's nose when he laughed, and it was the warmth he felt whenever his bare skin touched Eliott's. But that true love was gone when Eliott's eyes turned gray, when his voice went low and cold, when Lucas's heart was whimpering in fear, desperation. It was coming in cruel, salty waves, and Lucas needed true love to be the rock he could stand on as the ocean beat against him. Maybe he had read too many books. Maybe words, with all their tastes, smells, and sounds that soothed his heart and soul, have finally and utterly betrayed him.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. He could hear Mika's voice, but he wasn't the one at the door.

"I made breakfast, Lucas," Manon spoke through the door. "Do you wanna come eat with us?"

"Okay," Lucas responded, deciding to leave his phone on his bed. "I'll be right out."

He clambered out of his bed, almost tripping over a bit of carpet. He opened his door and walked into the living room, where everyone else was sitting around their small coffee table, eating.

"He lives!" Mika proclaims with that dumb smile on his face.

"It's only, like, 7 in the morning," Lucas sighed, rolling his eyes. "And I was already awake."

He walked over to the kitchen, studying all the food sitting on the counter. He wasn't super hungry, so he just got a bit of scrambled eggs and a few pieces of bacon. He hoped his roommates wouldn't notice that he was acting strangely.

"I'm sorry, kitten," Mika called from the living room. "But you must admit, you're never up early on the weekends!"

Lucas shrugged, sitting next to Lisa. "Still, don't act like I stay in my room all the time."

Mika nodded, giving another knowing glance at Manon. That look never failed to frustrate Lucas.

"So what was all that noise last night?" Manon asked as she cut into her waffles, trying to act casual.

Lucas froze with a forkful of eggs halfway to his mouth. "What do you mean?"

"You and Eliott were a bit loud last night," Mika finished, more casual than Manon.

Lucas felt his heart starting to race. "I still don't get what you mean."

"Were you two hooking up?" Lisa asked, more blunt than casual. She seemed annoyed with the whole conversation.

Lucas shook his head, a bit too adamantly. "Oh, no. We were just watching a show while we were taking a study break."

"Were you watching it with full volume or something?" Mika cut in. "Like, we mean you were loud last night."

"Maybe you guys were hearing things," Lucas shrugged. He knew his lying wasn't even remotely smooth, but it took enough energy for him to stay calm, let alone lie convincingly. "But rest assured we did not hook up, or make out, or anything like that. We just studied."

Lisa shrugged, Mika nodded, and Manon bit her lip. Lucas knew they didn't believe him, but he focused on hoping they wouldn't ask any more questions. An awkward silence fell, but Lucas got his wish.

"Should we watch some TV?" Manon suggested, a chipper smile brightening her face.

Everyone nodded in agreement. Lucas thought it would be another good distraction. They moved to sit in front of the couch as Manon turned on the TV. She found the channel with that one crime show they've been watching.

"This is a really good episode." Mika remarked, shoveling a bit of waffle into his mouth.

Lucas managed to eat everything on his plate, though he didn't have much on it anyway. He stood up and went to the kitchen to wash off his plate. He stared at the running water, his mind straying back to Eliott.

What was he going to do about him?

"Lucas, are you okay? You've been in there for a while." Manon called.

Lucas blinked, washing off his plate quickly and placing it next to the sink. "Coming!"

That Wednesday, Lucas still hadn't heard from Eliott. He had sent message after message, and they hadn't even been read. Distractions weren't good enough anymore. Eliott was always somewhere in his mind, and he wanted to take up as much space as possible. He spread like a disease, telling him when to breathe, when to speak, when to eat. Lucas was afraid to admit it, terrified to admit it, but Eliott was starting to become the voice in his head.

Lucas: Eliott no one's heard from you can you please at least let me know you're alive? You're haunting me

He deleted the "you're haunting me," then hit send. It was the 11th message he had sent Eliott since Sunday morning.

"Who are you texting?" Yann asked.

Lucas's head snapped up. Yann, Basile, and Arthur were all staring at him, concerned. He shoved his phone into his pocket, shaking his head. "It's just Imane. We're supposed to study together later."

He hated how his lies were easier to tell, how their taste became more comfortable on his tongue. But lying isn't always a bad thing, right?

"Lucas, we need you to be honest," Yann continued, putting his hand on Lucas's shoulder.

Would you have kissed me today if I hadn't kissed you last night? Eliott's voice echoed, ricocheting in Lucas's mind.

Yann sighed. "Are you okay?"

Lucas nodded without having to think about it. He managed a weak smile.

But Yann wasn't convinced. "If you say so," he replied with a shrug.

Lucas heard Basile change the subject as his mind trailed off again. He looked around the courtyard, subconsciously looking for Eliott. Maybe he'd show up today. Maybe Lucas could talk to him about what happened Saturday night, and everything after. Maybe they could work everything out. Because deep down, Lucas knew Eliott didn't mean to be rude to him that night. His heart understood, and wanted Eliott to understand, too. But his brain demanded an apology, a true, genuine apology. Lucas wouldn't mind an apology, either, but all he wanted to do was talk to Eliott.

Lucas saw Lucille walking by, and his stomach churned. She seemed perfectly fine. She seemed casual, normal. But she must have felt Lucas's stare because she looked over at him. She sent him an icy glare that chilled him to his bones. He tensed, his heart clenching. She looked away and kept walking, unbothered. The other boys must not have noticed the exchange. They didn't ask about it.

The warning bell rang, but Lucas felt frozen. Yann had to shake him a bit to get him to move. He gave Lucas another concerned look, and all Lucas could do was shrug.

Lucas felt like a zombie his first three class periods. He had forgotten all his homework assignments, he couldn't pay attention during the lectures, and he didn't talk to anyone. He was silent in the hallways, too, walking in a trance-like state. He bumped into almost everyone that walked by him. He walked right past his second period classroom and didn't notice until the tardy bell rang.

Halfway through the day, Lucas was sitting at lunch with the other boys. He decided he wouldn't eat his lunch today. He felt like he could throw up at any second.

"Daphné actually talked to me earlier!" Basile announced proudly, bringing Lucas back to reality.

"Define 'talk.'" Arthur replied, skeptical.

"Well, I saw her in the hallway, and I said hi, and she told me to go away and get to my class," Basile explained, pride in his voice.

"That's more words than she's said to you the entire school year!" Yann marveled, sarcastic.

"I think she's into me, guys," Basile said. "She tells me to go away because she knows that if she hangs out with me for more than two seconds, she'll be all over me."

Lucas rolled his eyes. "Keep telling yourself that, Baz."

"I won't believe you unless Daphné herself confirms it." Arthur shrugged.

"It happened!" Basile defended. "Go find her and ask her if you don't believe me!"

"All right, I'll text her," Arthur replied, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

"Go ahead." Basile invited.

"Arthur, I think he's telling the truth," Yann cut in. "Basile would've freaked out by now if he really was lying."

Lucas nodded vaguely in agreement. His eyes started wandering the cafeteria, looking for that fluffy hair and thunder cloud eyes and musical laugh again. The cafeteria was especially crowded that day, and particularly noisy. 

"She's typing!" Arthur announced. "And... She says it's true."

"See?" Basile replied, punching Arthur's shoulder playfully. 

His friends' voices faded as Lucas focused all his attention on the scene around him. 

Find Eliott, find Eliott, find Eliott

The voices of the other students grew louder and louder, snippets of a thousand conversations filling Lucas's ears.

"And she told me that he was cheating on her..."

"I totally failed that test, man..."

"Practice is at 4, right...?"

"I'm having a party on Friday if you wanna come..."

The voices, the faces, everything blended together. It was chaos, fear, desperation, panic. Lucas's heart was threatening to burst out of his chest, or explode in its cage. He squeezed his eyes shut.

The voices quieted, the dark was all-consuming. He opened his eyes, stood up, and started walking away. He thought he heard himself say he was going to the bathroom.

He walked until he couldn't hear the noise of the cafeteria anymore. He turned a corner, crashing right into someone.

"Whoa, Lucas, are you okay?" Manon said, trying to regain her balance. 

He paused for a moment, then shook his head violently, rivers of tears streaming down his face. "No. I'm not okay."

He felt Manon take his hand, leading him down the hallway and through a door. He realized that they were in the girl's bathroom.

"Breathe for me, Lucas," Manon said softly, cupping his face in her hands. "Try and calm down, okay? What happened?"

Lucas took a moment to breathe, slowly, deeply. "It's Eliott. I haven't heard from him since he left the flat last Saturday."

"I heard he was sick," Manon replied, her brow furrowed. 

"If he was sick he would've texted me or answered my calls, right?" Lucas shook his head, wiping away his tears. "It's been four days, Manon."

"Wait, did something happen on Saturday?" Manon asked, still confused.

Lucas felt like the lump in his throat could swallow him whole. He sobbed out an answer. "I kissed him. And he kissed me back."

He waited for Manon to ask more questions, but she told him to keep talking. He managed to through his tears.

"And it was amazing and we talked about how he's gonna make all these great movies and I'll write all these great books. And I was the happiest I've ever been. And I wanted to stay there with him forever and I wanted to kiss him again and again. And he has a girlfriend and her name is Lucille and he wants to break up with her but as soon as I brought her up he got upset. And he said he might break up with her and then I was afraid it would be because of me. Like Emma and Yann. And I didn't want that and I begged him not to break up with her because of me and he laughed, Manon. He laughed at me! Like it was some joke, like I was some joke! And then he told me it's not because of me because he kissed me first on Friday after the party. And he said I wouldn't be brave enough to kiss him if he hadn't kissed me first and it hurt so bad because he was right. He's right, Manon! I'm not brave enough to kiss him or tell everyone I'm gay and I don't think I ever will be and you should've heard him when he said that. I can't describe it but it broke my heart and I don't know what to do. And he isn't talking to me and I want to talk to him because I think I'm in love with him. What happens if I'm in love with him? What happens if I'm in love with him and I don't know what to do about it? I'm so lost, Manon. I have no idea what to do. Because one day he told me when I write it's like I'm defusing a bomb and that whole time I was talking to him I felt like that. Like I had to defuse a bomb so it wouldn't explode. But I exploded. He couldn't defuse me. And I feel like I'm still exploding. Manon, I need your help, please."

He felt Manon pull him into a tight, warm hug. "Tell me what to do," he sobbed into her shoulder, his whole body shaking.

"Have you told him that you feel this way?" Manon asked, rubbing small circles on his back.

"No," Lucas replied, sniffling.

"Here's what you need to do," Manon began, pulling away. "You're gonna text him one more time, and you're gonna tell him everything you just told me. Maybe he's hurting, too, Lucas. Maybe he thinks that you're not so he's trying to face it by himself. Just like you are. If you're both hurting, you both need to know about it. That's the only way both of you can heal. Okay?"

Lucas nodded. "Okay."

"I'm sorry this happened, Lucas," Manon said, wiping away his tears. "But I can tell how much you love him. You can't let this ruin all the potential you two have."

"I won't," Lucas replied, smiling weakly.

"Tell me what you love about him. I think that'll help you feel a little better," Manon suggested.

Lucas's smile widened a bit. "When he smiles, his whole face scrunches up. And when he kisses me, he's soft and gentle and always smiling against my lips. He's so creative and passionate. He has such an eye for art and beauty. He always seems to see the best parts of me. He always listens to me ramble about poetry and literature. And he looks at me like I'm the most precious thing in the world. And that's how he always makes me feel whenever I'm with him."

"You look so happy talking about him," Manon said, tears in her eyes, too. "I've never seen you this happy."

Lucas took a deep, shaky breath. "I know."

"Text him, Lucas," Manon urged. "Let him know how you feel."

Lucas nodded. He got his phone out of his pocket, opening his messages with Eliott. His thumbs hovered over the keyboard, then typed.

Lucas: Listen, Eliott, we need to talk. I messed up bringing up Lucille, and I hurt you. But I'm hurting, too. I don't wanna feel like I'm defusing a bomb talking to you anymore. I want it to feel natural, like breathing, again. I think I'm in love with you, and I don't want that to end like this. I've never been this happy before I met you. We need to heal. Together. Just let me know when you wanna talk, okay?

He paused, then kept typing.

Lucas: I love you.

He hit send, breathing a sigh of relief. "I just sent it."

Manon wrapped him in another hug. "Everything will be okay, Lucas."

Lucas nodded. He desperately, recklessly hoped that that would be true.

"Go drink some water," Manon said. "You get dehydrated crying like that."

Lucas chuckled. "Okay, Mom."

"I mean it," Manon laughed. "You'll thank me later."

Lucas almost turned to walk away, but Manon tapped his shoulder.

"How about we have a TV date, hang out thing tonight? We can watch that crime show together."

Lucas grinned. "I would love that."

"Okay, cool. See you later."

Lucas waved goodbye, then left the bathroom. He stopped at the water fountain, following Manon's advice. He wiped the stray tears away from his face, and made his way back to the cafeteria.

His friends were still at their table, chatting away. Lucas sat down in his usual place next to Arthur, and the group fell silent.

"Are you okay?" Yann asked, concerned. "You were in the bathroom for a while."

"Yeah, my mom called me, so." Lucas lied, a little smoother than the last time.

Basile, Arthur, and Yann seemed to believe him.

At 10 o'clock that night, Lucas and Manon settled onto the couch for their TV "date." Lisa was in her room and Mika had gone out to someone's party, so they had the living room to themselves. Manon had a big bowl of popcorn in her lap, and Lucas flipped through the channels to find that crime show they've been watching. Luckily, once he found it, the episode was just starting.

"Isn't this episode six?" Lucas asked.

"I think so." Manon nodded.

The episode started with one of the detectives eating dinner by himself. Then his wife walked into the room, visibly frustrated. Then they argued. Every crime show needs at least one character with marital problems, right?

"Just divorce him already," Manon muttered at the TV. 

"He'll be fine by himself," Lucas added.

"And he just uses his job as an excuse when he's being a dick to you, you don't deserve that."

"Don't you know how hard my job is?" Lucas grumbled, imitating the character's gravelly voice. "I see the worst of humanity every day. That changes a man!"

Manon laughed out loud. "That was really good!"

Lucas shrugged. "I try my best."

The scene changed and the theme song started playing. They sighed in relief. 

"Finally, we can get back to the actual case," Manon said, shoving popcorn into her mouth. "I can't wait for them to figure out the ex-girlfriend is the killer."

"It's not the ex-girlfriend, it's the brother!" Lucas rolled his eyes. "The brother is totally sketchy!"

Manon rolled her eyes, too. "Whatever you say, Lucas."

The next scene was hardly exciting. It was the one headstrong, female detective trying to figure out the case by herself. She stared at a corkboard of pictures and maps with pieces of yarn zig-zagging across it. She seemed utterly confused, no matter how long she stared at the board.

At the commercial break, Lucas checked his phone for the millionth time since lunch earlier that day. There was still no reply from Eliott. His heart sank a little every time there wasn't a reply. It sat at the bottom of his stomach, beating slowly. He sighed, putting his phone back in his pocket.

"Nothing?" Manon asked. 

Lucas shook his head. "Not yet."

"Maybe he doesn't know what to say," Manon suggested, shrugging. "Maybe he's drafting some big, long message right now."

Lucas scoffed. "If only."

"Don't give up on him, Lucas," Manon urged, putting her hand on his shoulder. "I don't think he's ready to give up on you yet, either."

"But what if—"

"No," Manon interjected. "Don't focus on the 'what if's. That'll only make you lose hope. Hold on to whatever hope you have for him, Lucas, no matter how big or small it is."

Lucas nodded. "Okay."

"Honestly, I think you'll get a reply by the time you wake up tomorrow morning."

Lucas raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

Manon nodded. "Really."

The commercial break was over, so the conversation stopped there. They watched for a while, intrigued, only talking when they made a brief comment about what was happening in the show. The detective with the marital problems was being a dick again, the headstrong detective refused anyone's help again, and the head detective gave more pointless orders. It was a typical, trashy crime show, but as Manon once said, it was decent trash.

At the end of the episode, one of the detectives made a major break in the case: the brother lied about where he was the night of the murder. Lucas raised his fist in the air, triumphant. 

"See?" he laughed, pointing at the TV. "The brother is totally sketchy!"

When he looked over, Manon was fast asleep. He shook her shoulder gently. "Manon, you fell asleep."

She sat up, inhaling sharply. She looked around for a moment, then sighed, rubbing her eyes. "Sorry. What happened?"

"The brother wasn't at work the night of the murder," Lucas recounted, vindicated. "So he's obviously, totally sketchy."

"Wait, really?" Manon mumbled, still sleepy. "They don't know where he actually was, though. He could've been on the other side of town when the murder happened."

"But you agree he's starting to look sketchy." Lucas replied, smirking.

"Okay, fine, he's a little sketchy." Manon admitted, rolling her eyes.

"Okay, but do you wanna go to bed when this episode is over?" Lucas asked. "You're obviously tired."

Manon nodded, rubbing her eyes again. "So they're gonna find the brother and ask him where he was?"

"Seems like the most reasonable course of action."

The last five minutes of the episode went by in a blur. The scene cut to a 112 dispatcher answering a call. They couldn't hear the other person on the phone, but the dispatcher asked them about who was chasing them, where they were. After a moment, the dispatcher was silent. She said hello a few times, asking the caller to give some sort of answer. The next scene was a wide shot of a forest, and it zoomed in on something lying on the ground...

"The brother is dead?!" Lucas cried, his eyes wide.

"So much for your theory," Manon smirked.

"A man was just murdered, Manon!"

"On the TV!"

Lucas rolled his eyes. "No compassion. No empathy. Always has to be right."

He couldn't get through his sentence without chuckling. Manon giggled, too. She punched his arm lightly. "Shut up!"

"Now we have to wait a whole week to know what happens next," Lucas sighed, defeated. "I can't believe the killer got the brother."

Manon nodded, already dozing off again. Lucas shook her gently again. "Go get some sleep, Manon. I think I'm gonna hit the hay, too."

"Wait, can you check and see if Eliott replied one more time?" Manon asked, barely able to keep her eyes open. "I wanna be here if he did."

Lucas smiled, nodding. "What would I do without you?"

He pulled out his phone, taking a deep breath before turning it on. Nothing.

"I'm sorry, Lucas," Manon said, rubbing his back. "Has he read the message yet, though?"

Lucas shrugged, unlocking his phone. When he checked, all it said below the message was that it had been delivered.

"Doesn't even have the decency to leave me on read," Lucas muttered, shaking his head.

"You don't know what's going on with him, Lucas," Manon replied.

"Exactly," Lucas sighed. "He won't tell me what's actually going on."

"Wait, Lucas, look!" Manon said, pointing at his phone.

The message had been read, and the typing bubble had appeared on the screen. Lucas held his breath, his heart slowed down.

A new message appeared. Lucas's heart was ready to soar.

Eliott: i want to talk to you too. i'm sorry i hurt you. i want to make it up to you. how about we have that date we talked about last time? the tunnel tomorrow at noon sharp. be there!

Eliott: i love you too

Chapter Text

It was a perfect day for a picnic. There wasn't a cloud in the sky. It was warm, but not too hot. There were a few welcome, chilly breezes here and there, too. 

Lucas hesitated as he reached the iron gate that guarded the trail to the tunnel. The forest was already beautiful. Light was everywhere, spilling and spreading like a stain. He wondered how Eliott would look in this light. He wondered if everything would really work out. He wondered if Eliott would be angry, sad, happy. He wondered what he was actually feeling. All he felt in his chest was a tangled web of conflicting emotions. Hurt, desire, despondency, hope. He figured his brain was taking over today, weaving a tapestry where every thread was a possibility, a potential outcome. The colors bled together, and Lucas is caught somewhere in the gray area.

He checked his phone. It was 11:53, so he still had a bit of time before noon. He had a message from Manon, too. He smiled as he read it.

Manon: He loves you, Lucas. Don't worry

A particularly cold gust of wind tried to knock Lucas off his feet. He regained his balance, shivered, pocketed his phone. 

He fixed his hair as well as he could without looking at it. He smoothed out any wrinkles in his clothes. He took deep breaths, the air still a little thick from that night in his bedroom. There was still a piece of their paradise, their world, here in his lungs. His heart steadied, the tension melted away from his shoulders, he stood tall.

He loved Eliott, and Eliott loved him. And that was real, more real than he thought anything could be. Some dumb ideas and fantasies he has in his head couldn't change that. He wouldn't let them change that.

He pushed the gate open, walking forward with a pep in his step his mind always told him to hide. He'd forgotten how it felt to walk the way he'd always wanted to, something between a walk and a skip. He was free.

As he strolled along the path, his steps slowed. The scenery took his breath away. Sunlight speared through the leaves in the trees, turning them a yellow-ish color. He could see all the veins in the leaves, all the life they had in them. And everything was so bright. It was no wonder this was Eliott's favorite place in the city. But how has no one else found this place? How could somewhere so beautiful be so run-down, so isolated? How could it be so neglected? But maybe that was what was so beautiful about it. It was untouched, pure.

Lucas's phone buzzed in his pocket. His brow furrowed as he looked at the notification.

Uknown: This is Lucille. We need to talk about Eliott. Immediately.

Lucas shook his head. Lucille is what started all this, she didn't need to interfere again. 

Lucas: I'm about to talk to him right now. I can handle it. Now please leave me alone.

He shoved his phone back into his pocket and kept walking. His phone buzzed three or four more times, but he decided to ignore them. Right now, it was just him and Eliott against the world. 

The tunnel soon came into view, and Lucas could just barely make out Eliott standing in front of it, pacing. He had what looked like a sheet of paper in his hand, and he was scribbling on it. The sunlight brought out the blonde in his hair and dyed it gold. Lucas couldn't wait to see how beautiful Eliott would look when they were finally facing each other again. Lucas took a deep breath, and picked up his pace.

Eliott either saw Lucas out of the corner of his eye or heard his footsteps, but he whirled around and almost squealed. He shoved the paper and pencil into his pocket, and ran towards Lucas.

Lucas's heart leapt. Everything was gonna be okay, just like Manon said.

As Eliott bridged the gap between them, he picked Lucas up and kissed him deeply. Lucas frantically wrapped his legs around Eliott's waist so he wouldn't fall. He kissed him back, trying to hold back a laugh. But Eliott kept kissing him, and kissing him, and kissing him.

Lucas pulled away, breathless. "What is this, the Notebook minus the rain?"

Eliott giggled, rubbing his nose against Lucas's. "Can I not just be happy to see you?"

"Of course you can, love," Lucas grinned. "I was joking."

He hadn't meant to call Eliott "love," but the word felt so right on his tongue. He savored the word's taste, the taste of Eliott's lips. He still tasted like cinnamon and sugar and smoke, but a little bit more smoke this time. 

Eliott's eyes glowed like embers as they scanned every inch of Lucas's face. They lingered on Lucas's lips. He kissed him again, slowly. 

Lucas missed Eliott's kisses so much. 

Eliott pulled away, cupping Lucas's face in his hands. "Are you ready for our long overdue date?"

Lucas nodded. "You'll have to put me down first, though."

"Oh, right," Eliott laughed, letting Lucas down. "Sorry."

Lucas tilted his head to see Eliott, and truly looked at him for the first time since Saturday night. He was truly the most beautiful person Lucas had ever seen. He was built like a sculpture but every corner, every edge was softened by his smile. And he couldn't stop smiling. His eyes were bluer than they'd ever been. They matched the sky that hung above them, a bright, bright blue. The thunderclouds had left his eyes, and they had left the sky. Everything was clear.

"I'm in love with you, Eliott," Lucas said, not quite blurting out. But he couldn't keep the words from leaving his mouth. "And now I know what happens if I'm in love with you. I keep loving you until my heart gives out."

Eliott's smile widened into a grin. "You little sappy romantic. I'm in love with you, too, my poet."

Lucas blushed, looking down at his feet. Goodnight, my poet, Eliott's voice echoed in his ear. He was Eliott's poet, and he couldn't be happier.

"I broke up with Lucille."

Lucas's head snapped up, his mouth dropping open a little. That little twang of guilt made an appearance, but he forced it down. "You don't seem too sad about it."

"Of course I'm not," Eliott laughed. "We can finally be together without anyone getting in our way."

Lucas smiled. He thought about the text Lucille sent. We need to talk about Eliott.

"Lucas," Eliott started, running his hand through his hair. "She hasn't tried to talk to you, has she?"

Can he read my mind? Lucas thought, slightly panicked. He shook his head. "Haven't heard from her since you two fought that one night."

Eliott shivered, but kept his smile. "Good. If she tries to, ignore her. She's bitter and jealous and angry. I don't want her getting in your head."

Lucas nodded. "Got it."

Eliott took Lucas's hand, interlocking their fingers. "Let's have our picnic, Lulu. We don't need to think about her."

Eliott started walking before Lucas could reply. Lucas's mind was starting to reel. Didn't they agree they would talk about what happened Saturday night? Lucas took a deep breath. Maybe Eliott just wanted to eat first, let things be somewhat normal before they have any sort of serious talk. If that was the case, Lucas couldn't blame him. He missed their little conversations.

Eliott stopped at the mouth of the tunnel. There was a blue gingham blanket lying on the ground, a wicker basket and a small speaker sitting in the middle of it. Eliott stepped to the side, gesturing at the setup proudly. Lucas smiled, chuckling.

"This is cute," Lucas said. "Are you sure we're not living in a romcom right now?"

"I actually think life is like a movie," Eliott replied. "That you can be the director of your own life."

"I don't know," Lucas shrugged. "That's a nice idea."

Eliott sat down and patted the spot next to him. "You don't believe it?"

Lucas sat down, sighing. "I think I do a little bit."

Eliott opened the basket, pulling out two frankly odd-looking sandwiches. "Enough philosophy. Let's eat."

Lucas eyed the sandwiches suspiciously, but accepted one when Eliott offered it to him. He studied its contents as well as he could. He could make out turkey and some kind of cheese, but there was a sauce Lucas couldn't recognize. He looked up and saw Eliott eating his sandwich greedily. 

"Did you make these?" Lucas asked, still hesitant. 

Eliott nodded. "Got up bright and early to make those."

Lucas let out a small laugh. "No, you didn't."

Eliott nodded again, laughing along. "Yeah, I didn't. These took, like, five minutes, tops."

Lucas sighed. Why not? He took a bite. 

He realized almost immediately that the unidentified, suspicious sauce was chocolate sauce. There was definitely turkey in there, too, but he still wasn't sure what the cheese was. He tasted some sort of spice, too. Maybe multiple. But the combination of all the ingredients made Lucas sick to his stomach. He somehow managed to swallow the first bite without too much trouble, but he didn't enjoy it one bit.

"What was in the sandwiches?" Lucas asked, trying to keep himself from wincing at the aftertaste.

"Turkey, some cheese in my fridge, chocolate sauce, and I think cardamom?"

Lucas took a deep breath, struggling with the thought that he had put all that in his mouth. "And how did you come upon this... flavor combination?"

Eliott shrugged, amused. "I just figured I'd try it out. Variety is the spice of life, isn't it?"

Lucas shrugged, too, laughing nervously. "Kardemomme!"

Eliott had eaten the entire sandwich, and Lucas could barely stomach two more bites. Unfortunately, that was all Eliott brought besides a couple of water bottles.

"Oh, the music!" Eliott said, just remembering. He pulled out his phone, made sure the speaker was working, then tapped on something on his screen.

Lucas recognized the song immediately. "'Pink in the Night'?"

Eliott nodded, the cheesiest smile on his face.

"This played when I kissed you," Lucas said, his voice quiet. "Saturday night. You remembered."

"It'd be pretty messed up if I didn't remember," Eliott laughed. "I was there."

Lucas laughed, too. "Can I kiss you again?"

"Of course you can." Eliott grinned.

Lucas leaned in, still seeing those stars behind his eyelids. But he knows his way to Eliott's lips now. He kissed Eliott, slowly, deeply. All he could taste were those weird sandwiches, but it didn't matter because it was Eliott. 

When Eliott pulled away, he kept his eyes closed, as if the moment would end if he opened his eyes. "You know, I have a whole playlist of songs that remind me of us. That's what's playing right now."

"Really?" Lucas grinned.

Eliott opened his eyes, and they danced. "Yeah. I went down a bit of an Internet rabbit hole looking for some good songs. I searched like, 'best love songs,' 'best love songs gay,' 'love songs that make you cry,' I don't even know. But I found some good ones. I think you'll love it."

"How many songs did you find?" Lucas asked, running his hand through Eliott's hair.

"Sixty-one," Eliott replied.

Lucas's eyes widened. "Sixty-one?"

Eliott shrugged. "I can't really defend myself, can I?"

Lucas shrugged back, shaking his head. "I don't think so."

"There's a song on here that used to remind me of Lucille," Eliott said, his eyes staring off into the distance. His smile faded, just a little. "It took me forever to put it on here because it reminds me of you, too, but it still reminds me of her a little. But I did it anyway."

"What song?" Lucas asked, intrigued.

"You'll see when we get to it," Eliott answered with a wink. "But I put it fairly early on in the playlist. And I'm sure you've heard the song before."

Lucas raised an eyebrow. He was definitely intrigued now. "All right."

"So what do you think of our place in the daylight?" Eliott asked, looking around, wonder in his eyes.

Lucas looked around, too, time slowing down a little. It reminded him of the place he went to in his dream what felt like forever ago. He smiled. "It's breathtaking."

"Not as breathtaking as you," Eliott muttered, loud enough for Lucas to hear.

"Shut up," Lucas laughed, blushing. "You're the one who's breathtaking."

Eliott shrugged. "I try."

"Oh, come on," Lucas rolled his eyes. "You could roll right out of bed and still look like some chiseled Greek god."

Eliott raised an eyebrow. "I'm that hot, huh?"

Lucas feigned surprise. "You don't know you're that hot?"

"Did you read Percy Jackson, too?" Eliott asked.

Lucas blinked, a little disoriented. It was a bit of a random question. "Yeah, I did. I had a bit of a phase with Percy Jackson, too. I'll be forever bitter about the movies, though."

"Who do you think your godly parent is?"

Lucas sighed. "Back when I was, like, 11 I was convinced I was like Percy Jackson. Son of Poseidon, you know? But, nowadays, I think I'm more of an Apollo kid."

"Wait, do you see that squirrel over there?" Eliott asked, pointing somewhere in the trees.

"No?" Lucas replied, searching.

"It's so fat." Eliott laughed.

Lucas shook his head, confused. "I don't think I would miss a fat squirrel, Eliott."

Eliott was laughing so hard tears were going down his face. He was wheezing. Lucas tried to laugh along, but he didn't see what was so funny about a fat squirrel. 

"Breathe, Eliott, breathe," Lucas joked, rubbing Eliott's back.

"Sorry," Eliott managed. "Could you really not see it?"

Lucas shook his head. "No."

"You should get glasses," Eliott said, his laughter dying down. "You'd look really cute in glasses, I think. You'd look so nerdy. Or like all those old authors you like from the 1800s."

Eliott started laughing again, not as hard as he was before, but enough that he couldn't talk for a bit.

"What?" Lucas chuckled.

"I can imagine you on some stage at some bar for some slam poetry night. With your little wire-framed glasses. You're wearing a black turtleneck. And you're up there, and you're like," Eliott cleared his throat dramatically, then spoke with a bad Lucas impression. "'My mother wraps me in a blanket I've long outgrown. Needles of thread drill into my spine disguised as loving, motherly kisses. Her voice splinters as she sings me lullabies that no longer lull me to sleep. My ears bleed the rubies that used to adorn her old necklace. "They're your birthstone," she told me once in autumn. "And they're as beautiful as you." Her eyes are shining with the diamonds that are on the wedding ring she doesn't wear anymore. There are no such jewels in my eyes, and if there are, they've lost their luster. Her footsteps are quiet as a mouse as she leaves my bedroom. I fall into a restless sleep, while her muffled sobs rumble from the other side of the wall.'"

Lucas was stunned. "You... Just recited one of my poems."

The poem about his mom. The first piece he had ever really shown anyone else. And Eliott just recited it from memory. Lucas didn't even have it memorized.

"Oh, you'll recognize this next song," Eliott said, ignoring Lucas's comment.

Lucas nodded, Eliott's outburst still not sitting right with him. He wanted to be flattered, but there was something like worry entering his thoughts.

Eliott was staring at Lucas expectantly as the next song started.

"This is the song from Polaris," Lucas said as he remembered it. "The song that plays when they kiss."

Eliott nodded. "You remembered."

Lucas nodded back. "How could I forget the first movie that made me cry?"

Eliott grinned, then kissed Lucas again. But it was softer now, slower. He had that smile he always had when he kissed Lucas. Everything felt familiar, warm, comforting. Maybe Eliott was just hyper, or so excited to see Lucas again he couldn't contain it. But he had to make sure.

Lucas pulled away, resting his forehead against Eliott's. "Everything's okay, right?"

"Of course!" Eliott gushed, giggling. "Everything that happened Saturday is in the past. I'm over it."

"No," Lucas replied. "I mean with you."

Eliott's smile disappeared, an unfamiliar glint sparkling in his eyes. "What do you mean?"

Lucas bit his lip. He stammered out, "You just... seem a bit off."

Eliott tilted his head. "How so?"

Lucas couldn't make himself answer. He had no idea what to think. He felt like he needed to run away.

Eliott dissolves into laughter, clutching his belly. "You should've seen your face!"

Lucas couldn't laugh along. Eliott liked to joke around, but never like this. "I was asking a genuine question."

"I'm on top of the world, Lucas," Eliott replied, taking Lucas's hand. "I'm the happiest I've ever been."

Lucas nodded, forcing a smile. "Okay. Just making sure."

"You seem a little down," Eliott said. "I have something that will cheer you up."

Lucas raised his eyebrows. "You do?"

Eliott fished through his pocket, pulling out the piece of paper he was scribbling on. He handed it to Lucas, an ecstatic grin on his face.

On the paper was a drawing of a raccoon and a hedgehog sitting on what looked like a sofa. The hedgehog was writing in a notebook, a soft smile on its face. The raccoon was snuggled next to it, resting its head on its shoulder. There was a little note at the bottom, most likely written by Eliott. The handwriting was neat, thick. The note read:

the poet with his muse

"You know how you asked how I would draw you?" Eliott asked as Lucas stared at the drawing.

Lucas nodded, letting himself smile.

"I've decided that you're a hedgehog," Eliott continued, proud of his comparison. "You know, your hair's all spiky, and you're pretty short,"

Lucas shot him a teasing look. "I know I'm short, Eliott, you don't need to rub it in."

"Do you like being a hedgehog?" Eliott smiled, ruffling Lucas's hair.

"I mean, who doesn't love hedgehogs?" Lucas replied, shrugging.

Eliott pulls Lucas close, laughing. "You know, hedgehogs are my second favorite animal. After raccoons, of course."

"Really?" Lucas asked, chuckling.

Eliott nodded. He thought for a moment, then paused the music. "You know, I'm gonna take Polaris to Cannes. You'll come with me. While I'm introducing the movie to everyone, I'll talk about how it's about how love can conquer anything, and how love can come in any form. And I'll tell them about how I had the idea in high school and this one kid helped me with the script. And how he reminds me of the figure in the tunnel, and how our relationship is a lot like the one in the movie. And then I'll have you come up on stage. And you'll be all shy and embarrassed and blushing and you'll so cute. And then I'll get down on one knee and propose to you with this big speech. How you're the love of my life and how I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you. And then you'll start crying so hard you can't physically say 'yes.' You just nod your head and throw your arms around my neck. And the audience is crying, too. The applause is deafening. And then I put the ring on your finger. And it's just a little band, silver, but it's so shiny it hurts a bit to look at it. And then we kiss for a really long time. Like, so long that they have to kick us off the stage so everyone can watch the movie. And we can barely keep our hands off each other. We kiss a lot. And everyone loves the movie. And then we get married the next day on the beach, and it's so sunny and warm and perfect. And we're wearing white t-shirts and those weird, denim, cut-off shorts. And a raccoon will be the flower girl and ring bearer and a hedgehog will be the ring bearer. I don't know. Wouldn't that be the funniest thing? But the wedding will be absolutely perfect. You have the most poetic vows ever and I just say 'ditto.' And you just laugh and laugh and laugh. I love your laugh. It's so loud but it's so cute.  And we have the most romantic kiss in the world. Everyone is crying. It's the wedding of the century. There'll be so many paparazzi shots but we won't care because at least we have each other. The cake will be chocolate, and it'll be in three tiers. And the frosting will be white, and there'll be little blue flowers on it. They're the same color as your eyes. And I stuff the cake in your face. And then you stuff cake in my face. And when we have our first dance, the song will be the one in Polaris. The one we just listened to. It's a short song, so we play it twice. But no one notices but us. And we dance until the sun has long sunk behind the horizon. And we count the stars after everyone leaves, and we hold hands and kiss and play with each other's hair. And by the time we get back to our hotel we're so exhausted we just fall asleep in each other's arms and we don't wake up until noon the next day. And then we'll honeymoon in Santorini. We'll take pictures with those weird buildings and spend a whole day on the beach and eat so much food our stomachs almost explode. And we'll watch the sunset every day but really I'll just be staring at you the whole time and you'll look so beautiful. And then we'll go home and adopt a bunch of dogs and we'll play with them all day and we'll be so, so in love. Can't you imagine that, Lucas? Can't you just see it, right now?"

If Eliott had been normal when he delivered his speech, Lucas would be crying his eyes out. Because he could imagine it. As Eliott talked, Lucas could see everything he was describing in the back of his mind. And everything Eliott talked about was what Lucas wanted. He wanted a proposal and wedding ceremony in Cannes, he wanted a honeymoon in Santorini, he wanted an apartment full of puppies that he could share with Eliott. He wanted Eliott. But Eliott was frantic, his speech disordered, his eyes wild and bright, his hands flapping about as he spoke. He was never like this. Granted, Lucas would be the first to admit he hasn't spent as much time with Eliott as he would've liked, but even he couldn't deny that this was astonishingly out of character. And as Eliott stared at him expectantly, Lucas was so consumed with worry that he couldn't speak.

"You're speechless," Eliott said, incredulous. "I've silenced the great poet Lucas Lallemant!"

Lucas laughed a half-hearted chuckle as Eliott gave him an earnest noogie. "Yes, you have."

Eliott laughed as he kissed Lucas's temple, then planted more on almost every square inch of Lucas's face. "Maybe I can be a poet, too."

"Maybe," Lucas replied, forcing himself to smile.

"Did you ever write that sonnet?" Eliott asked.

Lucas shook his head. "Not yet."

"Well, if you're gonna write a million, you'd better get started," Eliott teased.

Lucas flinched as Eliott started tickling his belly. He managed to squirm away, every part of his body tense. Eliott giggled, apologizing. Lucas sighed, shrugging.

Lucas felt another buzz in his pocket. He decided to actually check it, that way Eliott could leave him alone for a second. He hated that he had had that thought, and that he needed to be away from Eliott.

Unknown: Lucas???

Unknown: Seriously I know we got off on the wrong foot but this is important

Unknown: If you truly love Eliott you'll listen to me

Unknown: Are you with him right now? 

Lucas stared at the messages. Maybe Eliott's recent behavior is what Lucille wanted to talk about. 

Lucas: He's acting really weird

Lucas: I'm worried

Unknown: So you ARE with him right now?

Lucas: Yeah

Unknown: Where are you?

Lucas bit his lip. He can't just tell Lucille where they are. This was their place. Not Lucille's.

"Who're you texting?" Eliott asked, innocently curious.

"Yann," Lucas replied quickly, the lie rolling too smoothly off his tongue. He texted Lucille back.

Lucas: I can't tell you

Unknown: What do you mean?

Unknown: Do you not know where you are?

Lucas: No I do 

Lucas: We're in our secret place

Unknown: Okay

Unknown: And where is that?

Lucas: I can't tell you

Unknown: Listen Lucas

Unknown: I NEED to talk to Eliott

Unknown: You said he's acting weird right? I'm the only one who can calm him down

Lucas: Can't this wait?

Unknown: No he might get worse

Lucas: What do you mean worse?

Unknown: I'll be right there

Lucas: No Lucille you can't be here 

Lucas: You don't even know where we are

Unknown: If you want what's best for him, you'll tell me where you are so I can talk to him. Okay?

Lucas stared at the screen, dumbfounded. 

Lucas: If? Of course I want what's best for him what are you talking about?

Unknown: Stop fighting and tell me where you are

Unknown: Eliott needs to get better and he can only do that if I talk to him

Lucas: Why can't we both talk to him?

Unknown: You don't know what's wrong with him Lucas how could you help him?

Lucas: What's wrong with him then?

Unknown: If he hasn't told you he obviously doesn't trust you enough to tell you

"Jeez, he's texting you a lot, huh?" Eliott chuckled.

"Sorry, I can tell him I need to go do something," Lucas replied quickly.

He stared at Lucille's message. What if she was right? What if he was just someone Eliott went to when he was bored? What if he really doesn't love him? His mind took over and made him type his next message.

Lucas: We're at this tunnel a block or two away from Eliott's apartment

Lucas: It's on the corner of a street I can't remember which one but if you walk past his building and keep walking there's a big iron gate

Lucas: Just open it and follow the trail

Lucas: Just promise me you won't tell anyone else about this place okay?

Unknown: Okay

Unknown: I'll be right there

"Let's keep the music going," Eliott suggested, opening his phone to play the next song. "Oh, this is the one that reminded me of Lucille."

The piano intro was immediately recognizable. Lucas wanted to throw up. "'A Thousand Years'?"

Eliott laughed a bit. "Remember when this song came out and every radio station played it every thirty minutes?"

Lucas forced a chuckle. "Yeah, I do."

"Let's dance, Lucas," Eliott grinned, holding out his hand.

"I don't dance, Eliott," Lucas protested, uneasy.

"It's just a slow dance," Eliott replied, grabbing Lucas's hand. "Come on, it's easy! Stand up! This is good practice for our wedding in Cannes!"

Lucas gave in, standing up. He left his phone on the ground, face down.

"Do you know what to do?" Eliott asked.

Lucas shook his head. 

"Put your left hand on my right shoulder, and hold my left hand with your right," Eliott instructed. "I'll have my right hand on your waist. And we'll just kinda step from side to side. Okay?"

Lucas did as he was told. Eliott's shoulder was strong and muscular, his hand soft, strong, and warm like it was before. Eliott's hand was gentle against his side, his touch like a whisper. They swayed a bit, Lucas following Eliott's lead.

Eliott's eyes never left Lucas's face. Lucas had to watch as they danced, slowly flitting across all of his features. He watched as they seemed to get brighter and brighter, the irises getting bluer and bluer. He was watching a flower bloom, the petals opening slowly, delicately. He watched Eliott fall even deeper in love, sinking into it slowly. He watched as Eliott opened up, never wanting to let Lucas go. And Lucas could feel himself close off, guilt wrapping itself around his veins, his bones, his heart and mind. It was squeezing him, crushing his lungs and his spirit.

But this was all his fault. He told Lucille where they were. He'd betrayed Eliott before a second thought barely entered his mind. And he can't stop Lucille from storming in. He'll have to see Eliott's face fall when he sees Lucille, listen to his voice become bitter, cold. It'll all happen so quickly. Everything had already happened so quickly. Everything was spiraling, hurtling through the universe leaving nothing but ruins in its path. And it was all Lucas's fault.

He wanted to shove Eliott off of him and run away, never look back. That way, he won't have to see Eliott's when he finds out Lucas betrayed him. He'll never have to see Eliott again, and he can forget all about him. Find someone else to fall in love with, write sonnets about.

Lucas forced back the tears that threatened to pool in his eyes. Just when he thought he knew what to do now that he's in love with him, everything explodes.

"There's something in your eyes, Lucas," Eliott muttered. "Something I can't read."

Lucas closed his eyes and hung his head. It was already too painful.

"What's wrong, my poet?" Eliott cooed, cupping Lucas's face in his hands.

"I'm sorry," Lucas choked out, shaking his head. "I'm so, so sorry."

Eliott pulled Lucas into a hug. "What are you sorry for? You didn't do anything wrong. Was it the sandwich? Listen, I know the flavor combination probably wasn't the best idea, but it's okay if you didn't like it. It won't upset me."

If only it were that simple.

"Or are you still upset about Saturday?" Eliott continued, not slowing down one bit. "I told you, it's all in the past. All is forgiven. I'm not mad at you. I just wanna kiss you and dance with you and marry you at Cannes, okay?"

Lucas kept trying to stop the tears from flowing, but a couple started to escape, rolling down his cheeks.

"Okay?" Eliott repeated, more concerned than before.

"Okay," Lucas mumbled, his voice muffled against Eliott's shirt.

Eliott started singing along to the song as the chorus kicked in. Maybe he was trying to make Lucas feel better, but it only made him feel worse. He could feel Eliott's voice rumble from his throat, every breath he took in between lines. He was singing another lullaby that'll never lull Lucas to sleep.

"Cheer up, my poet," Eliott said softly, running his hand through Lucas's hair.

Lucas almost flinched at the nickname. He took a deep, trembling breath. 

"Let's find a happier song," Eliott suggested, pulling away from the hug. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through his playlist.

Lucas wiped the tears off of his cheeks, trying to regain his composure.

Eliott grinned. "I have the perfect song!"

He clicks on something on his screen. Noise erupts out of the speaker. Lucas wasn't sure any actual instruments were being played. A deep, distorted voice was saying something that sounded like boom-ska. 

Eliott was bouncing around, the widest grin on his face. He mouthed along to the nonsensical sounds. 

In another life, in another universe, Lucas probably would've laughed or shook his head but found it funny anyway. Lucas could barely force a smile as he watched Eliott dance.

"You're really down in the dumps, aren't you?" Eliott said after a moment, standing still. "Not even SaraoMusic can cheer you up."

"SaraoMusic?" Lucas repeated.

"What's wrong, Lucas?" Eliott asked. "I hate feeling so happy then seeing you so sad."

Lucas shrugged. He stared down at his feet. Next to him was his phone.

Unknown: Is Eliott playing his dubstep again? I'm at the gate and I can hear it from here

Lucas's heart dropped like a rock. Lucille's here. He picked up his phone, typing out a reply as quickly as he could.

Lucas: Lucille please don't find us

Lucas: Eliott can't know that I

"What is she doing here?" Eliott said suddenly, his voice so cold it sent a shiver down Lucas's spine.

Lucas's head snapped up. There, in the distance, Lucille was walking down the trail, her face unreadable.

No, no, no

"You told her where we were, didn't you?" Eliott asked, his voice suddenly eerily calm. His eyes were fixed on Lucille

"Eliott, I—" Lucas started, but his voice was heavy with his tears.

"You were texting her, not Yann," Eliott continued, facing Lucas now. "You lied to me."

"I know, I—"

"Eliott!" Lucille called, jogging up to him.

"Why are you here?" Eliott asked, his jaw clenched.

"Lucas texted me," Lucille replied matter-of-factly, a bitterness in her voice.

"I know he didn't tell you to come here," Eliott said, glancing at Lucas. There was a glint of hope in his eyes, but it was dim.

"No, but he told me where you were," Lucille nodded, glaring at Lucas. "I'll admit he didn't want to tell me. But he did, eventually."

Lucas was frozen. He felt like he couldn't breathe. Everything was falling apart.

"You could've just talked to me, Lucille," Eliott snapped, becoming angry. "You didn't have to bring him into this."

"He texted me, saying you were acting weird and that he was worried about you," Lucille bit back, her voice rising. "Did you really think he wouldn't notice something was wrong?"

"Of course not! I was gonna tell him, Lucille, but you decided that it's your decision when to tell him, not mine!" Eliott shouted, getting in her face.

"I took matters into my own hands, okay?!" Lucille yelled. "Look at him, Eliott! You're hurting him!"

Lucas shook his head. He couldn't bear seeing the look on Eliott's face right now. Please don't look at me. But Eliott didn't turn around.

"He's worried sick about you!" Lucille continued, getting angrier with every word she spoke. "He doesn't know what's going on and he deserves to know! He's absolutely torn over this because you're not being honest with him! You can say he betrayed you all you want, but this is your fault. This is all your fault, and you know it. Lucas is crying his eyes out and it's your fault. He's blaming himself and it's your fault. Admit it! Say, 'this is all my fault.'"

"It's not my fault I'm bipolar, Lucille!" Eliott roared, his voice strained and furious.

His words echoed in the forest, then everything was silent. The birds stopped singing, the leaves didn't rustle in the trees. Lucas didn't breathe.

"How could that ever be my fault?" Eliott asked, softer. He was crying.

Lucille didn't reply. She just glared at Eliott, her gaze cold and unforgiving.

Eliott turned around, facing Lucas. As soon as their eyes met, Lucas began to tremble. They were wide and glassy, hollow. Eliott approached him, slowly. He held Lucas's face in his hands, wiping away his tears.

"I'm sorry, my poet," Eliott sobbed, his words barely audible. "I'm so, so sorry."

Eliott kissed him, soft and quick. All Lucas could taste was Eliott's tears. Eliott pulled away, but Lucas kept his eyes closed. He heard running footsteps, then heard them fade away.

"Look at me, Lucas," he heard Lucille command.

He opened his eyes, slowly. He felt a thousand tears roll down his cheeks. Lucille had this smug, vindicated look on her face. Lucas was filled with an overwhelming urge to punch her. He clenched his hand into a fist, but restrained himself.

"You know the truth now," Lucille said. "I'm sorry he didn't tell you sooner. But it's because he doesn't care about you. Not really. He doesn't care about anyone except himself. He can't care about anyone except himself. Unless you want him to hurt you even more than he already has, stay away from him. You're better off never seeing or talking to him again. You got it?"

Lucas nodded weakly. He was too drained to do or say anything else.

Lucille picked up Eliott's drawing from off of the blanket. She shoved it against Lucas's chest with a glare. She picked up the basket, the speaker, and the blanket, then turned and walked away without another word.

Lucas looked down at the drawing.

the poet with his muse

A tear fell down onto the page, smudging the raccoon's face. Eliott's face.

A strong, cold wind blew suddenly, snatching the drawing from Lucas's hands. It started floating down the tunnel, curling like a ribbon. Lucas ran after it, sobs racking his body. Wind after wind blew it further away from him. He ran and ran down the trail until his legs were about to give out.

"No, please!" he cried as the paper began to float up into the trees, out of his reach. It flew higher and higher until it was just a speck in the distance.

Lucas fell to his knees, his entire body aching. He tried to breathe, but all that came out was sobs. 

He finally screamed a guttural, bloodcurdling scream as he thought hopelessly, Eliott is gone.

Chapter Text

Lucas cried. He cried until he couldn't breathe. He cried until he couldn't see through his swollen eyelids. He cried until his throat was raw and his lungs ached. He cried until he thought he was gonna throw up. He didn't know he could cry like this. He never did. He didn't cry like this when his dad left, or when he realized he was in love with Yann. Never. But here he was, crying the hardest he's ever cried over a boy he'd known for not even two weeks. A boy that he let fall through his fingers like sand. A boy that he loved but didn't love quite enough. He felt like he was drowning, caught under the force of a wave of despair. Every time he broke the surface and tried to breathe, it crashed over him all over again. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't speak or scream or shout. He couldn't do anything. He was at the mercy of his own broken heart. And, in the back of his mind, he heard that familiar, cold voice saying, I told you so.

As soon as the voice spoke, the water he was drowning in became an ocean. Every particle of salt burning his eyes, his nose, his throat and lungs. It burned his skin, his ears, his hair. It lingered too long on his tongue, bleeding into his taste buds. Those words were the second worst words he had ever tasted, and he didn't even speak them himself. Those words were the worst tasting to Lucas, the ones that were shoved down your throat, the ones someone tried to spin into sweet sugar but it still tasted bitter. But then the worst tasting words Lucas never spoke were the last words Eliott had said to him.

I'm sorry, my poet. I'm so, so sorry.

Eliott wasn't lying. He wasn't shoving anything down Lucas's throat. But they were so bitter on Lucas's tongue because he had no idea what those words could mean. He couldn't know how those words tasted for Eliott. Was it an apology? Was it a goodbye? Was it a possibly, a maybe? Lucas didn't like not understanding words, and somehow he had never been more confounded by any string of words in his life than Eliott's I'm sorry.  Maybe that's the way a lover's tongue is supposed to work. Maybe a lover's tongue is a double-edged sword. It either makes your heart race or makes your brain go into a frenzy. It either makes your toes curl or your brow furrow.  Maybe true love can only be found once you love your lover's tongue, not just their smile or their eyes. But maybe Eliott wasn't Lucas's lover anymore. Yet, he was certainly in love with his face, his hair, everything. But not his tongue, yet. Nor his mind.

It's not my fault I'm bipolar, Lucille! Eliott's voice echoed. How could that ever be my fault?

Eliott's mind.

Lucas tried to breathe, but it came out choppy and shallow. His chest and his lungs still ached. Everything ached. He wanted the pain to go away, the salt to stop stinging, the bitterness to leave his tongue, to breathe again, to start the day over and love Eliott more than he had loved him before. He wanted to dance with him, talk for hours about the future, have Eliott show him every drawing he's done, make his own playlist of songs that remind him of them. He wanted to tell Eliott "I love you" one more time. A part of him wanted to start everything over, go back to the moment he saw Eliott at the school film festival. So he could really stare at him while he was painted in the light of the sunset, without the voice that was so loud and clear telling him he was wrong. He wanted to talk to him for the first time again and not feel nervous. Maybe he would be a little braver around Eliott, kiss him sooner, tell him "I love you" sooner. Maybe things would be different now. Maybe Lucas and Eliott would still be having their picnic, listening to bad music and eating bad sandwiches. Maybe Eliott's drawing would be sitting in Lucas's pocket, not floating around in the heart of Paris. Maybe Lucas wouldn't be bawling his eyes out right now.

A single tear rolled down Lucas's cheek as Lucille's voice seeped its way back into his mind. 

Unless you want him to hurt you even more than he already has, stay away from him. You're better off never seeing or talking to him again.

"But he's still hurting me even after he's left," Lucas muttered, barely audible. He hated hearing the way his voice cracked. It was brittle, thin. It wasn't his voice anymore.

Look at him, Eliott! You're hurting him!

"He's hurting me..."

He's worried sick about you! He doesn't know what's going on and he deserves to know! He's absolutely torn over this because you're not being honest with him!

"He lied..." 

You can say he betrayed you all you want, but this is your fault. This is all your fault, and you know it. Lucas is crying his eyes out and it's your fault. He's blaming himself and it's your fault.

"His fault..."

Admit it! Say, 'this is all my fault.'

"This is all his fault..."

It's not my fault I'm bipolar, Lucille! How could that ever be my fault?

"It's not his fault..."

The memories seemed to fade, the voices in his head falling silent. The ocean receded, but it still left pale sea foam and wet sand behind. He'd stopped crying, but his cheeks were still wet. His head ached dully, felt heavy and stuffy. His limbs felt like they were made of lead, anchoring him to the ground. Yet he felt weightless. He breathed. In, out. The salt lingered, coating the fleshy branches that lived within his lungs. He breathed again, slower this time. In. Out. His chest felt empty, but as if it had been hollowed out, gutted. There was a piece of him missing, or maybe several. He looked up, searching for his pieces. He could feel them, somewhere out in the cosmos. But he couldn't see them. And he didn't recognize the world around him. Everything was hard, sharp, clear lines. Every color was ever so slightly muted. It felt like a dream, or like he was living in a movie. 

Nothing felt real, he realized. Not his body, not his soul, not his world. None of it felt real.

He needed to get home. Sleep, eat, drink water or something. He needed to leave this place. There were too many memories now, most painful. He needed to get home.

Lucas somehow got to his feet, swaying a little. He took small steps forward, walking slowly. His headache suddenly got worse, the pain bleeding into sunspots that swam across his vision. He shut his eyes, waiting for the worst of the pain to pass. He waited and waited, the ache becoming dull. But his head felt heavy, like it was filled with cotton. He kept walking, his vision clearer.

He followed the trail, hoping the scenery around him would look familiar soon. The whole forest was silent. There was no wind to make the leaves ruffle and whisper to each other, no birds singing in the branches. He couldn't hear Eliott's laughter, the music that droned from his speaker. Everything was still, quiet.

He didn't know how much time had passed, but he could see the tunnel in the distance, the tunnel where everything fell apart. He stopped in his tracks, memories of Polaris flooding his mind.

The rain, how light slowly crept into the frame, how they held hands for a moment, the kiss and the joyous desperation of it. The black and white, the music, the tears in Lucas's eyes, the swelling of his heart. The feeling of being understood. The feeling of knowing you're not alone. The feeling of slowly realizing that everything is going to be okay. The way Lucas's hands hurt as he applauded, the way he was afraid to speak since he'd been crying so much. Lucas finally understanding how movies could mean so much to people, the same way he felt about books and poetry. The feeling of holding hands with the universe and realizing it would be nothing without you. Joy. Pure, unbridled joy.

Lucas couldn't name a single thing in the world he wouldn't give up to feel that joy again. Let it fill up his chest until its seams threatened to burst. Let it guide his blood through his veins and into his heart. Let it enter his brain, gently, carefully, then finally glowing and shouting, "all is right with the world!" 

Eliott was the only person who had ever made him feel like this. He was the only person that brought Lucas this amount of joy he was now craving with every fiber of his being, every fiber of the universe. 

Eliott is the answer.

The truth he had long dreaded and long pushed out of his mind, his heart. He always knew there was no denying that this theory his heart came up with was true. It could never stop being true. But now there was another, larger truth standing in its way: Lucas has ruined everything.

Lucas's feet started moving of their own accord. They were quicker now, more determined. He walked down the trail, passing through the tunnel. His brain was chanting at him.

You've ruined everything.

He reached the end of the trail, pushing past the wrought iron gate. The street was mostly empty. He looked up at the sky and saw dark, threatening clouds above him. 

How fitting, he thought bitterly.

Rain began to pour, cold and unrelenting. Nevertheless, Lucas continued forward, his feet still working against him. 

You've ruined everything.

He glanced at Eliott's apartment building. He wondered what Eliott was doing, what he was thinking.

Something made him tear his gaze away, forcing his eyes forward.

You've ruined everything.

The remaining walk to the bus stop was short. At least Lucas could get away from the rain now. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, deciding to text Mika.

Lucas: I'm omw home

Mika: How'd your date go???

Lucas sighed.

Lucas: I don't wanna talk about it

It took a couple of minutes for Mika to reply. Lucas was worried for a second.

Mika: Are you okay kitten?

Lucas considered for a moment.

Lucas: I don't know

He heard the familiar hum of a bus engine. He looked up as the bus pulled up, coming to a stop. He boarded, quickly finding a seat in the very back. He needed to be alone. Thankfully, the bus wasn't very crowded. Once he sat down, he had a text from Manon.

Manon: Did something happen? 

Of course Mika got her to text Lucas, too.

Lucas: I don't wanna talk about it

As he closed the messages app, he decided to turn his phone completely off. He'll turn it back on once Eliott has left his every waking thought.

The bus lurched forward, and Lucas sighed in relief.

The bus ride home was uneventful. No one was loud. Lucas felt empty. He wondered if he was even alive anymore.

Once Lucas made it home and walked through the front door, he made a beeline for his room. He heard both Manon and Mika start to speak, but he didn't want to listen. He shut his bedroom door behind him. He collapsed onto his bed, falling into an exhausted sleep almost immediately.

Wherever Lucas was, it was freezing. He shivered, his breath coming out in smoky clouds. It was dark, too. Too dark to really see anything. He looked below him as his eyes adjusted, and saw a barren wasteland. It looked familiar.

He started floating down to the ground, landing softly on his feet.

The grass beneath him was burnt, reduced to nothing but blackened stubs. There were trees around him, too. They were wilted, decaying. They were rusted. He approached one, placing a hand on its trunk. It was cold, metal. These were the silver trees. The golden leaves were gone, and so were the diamonds. The silver trees were dead.

He walked through the forest, looking for any sign of life, but all he saw was destruction. All the trees were dead, all the grass burnt. 

He reached a clearing, and Lucas suddenly realized he'd never heard the river. His eyes scanned the area, but all he saw a muddy riverbed. The river was dry. 

He looked ahead, and the city in the horizon was dark. The fireflies were gone. Or maybe they were dead, too.

A gust of wind ripped through him suddenly, nearly knocking him over. A piece of paper flew past him. Eliott's drawing was on it.

Lucas ran after it, his heart soaring. He ran as fast as he could, but the drawing was always just barely out of his reach.

Another wind blew, sending it high into the air. Lucas willed himself to run faster. Suddenly, his feet weren't touching the ground. He was flying.

"Please don't fly away again," his heart silently pleaded. He chased after the drawing, getting closer to it than he had before.

He was reaching the edge of the world when his fingertips brushed against the paper. He grabbed it, but it burst into ash. A bright, searing pain ripped across his right hand. He cried out in pain, gritting his teeth. He watched helplessly as the ashes floated to the ground, tears welling in his eyes.

Suddenly, he felt himself falling. His breath caught, his heart leapt to his throat. He was falling. He didn't know how high up he was, or how long it would take him to hit the ground. Panic settled in, his limbs flailing and his strained voice calling for help.

The sky above him was pitch black, empty. There were no stars, there was no moon. There was no Eliott.

Lucas remembered when this world was still beautiful, when Eliott still lived in the sky. He thought he could taste Eliott again: tangy cheese and warm love. He wanted the stars to flicker back to life, for the moon to reappear. He wanted to see Eliott's face again. He wanted Eliott to catch him, to scoop him up in his arms and kiss him again. He wanted Eliott to save him, to lift him up before he hit the ground. 

But the sky remained empty, vacant. There wasn't the faintest twinkle of a star, the faintest light from the moon. Eliott couldn't save him. Maybe he was off haunting some other world's sky, some other person's dreams.

Desperate, afraid, alone, Lucas cried out Eliott's name with all his might.

And then he hit the ground.

Lucas sat bolt upright in his bed, gasping for breath. He studied his body, but nothing was broken and his hand wasn't burned. He sat for a moment, trying to process everything that had happened in his dream. And once he did, he started crying again. His heart was lodged in his throat yet anchored to his feet at the same time. He felt like he was falling, and he felt like he had just hit the ground a million times over. He felt like he had tried to climb up a nonexistent stair, the sudden emptiness and the force of gravity startling him. He felt like he was about to fall off of his bed but his body jerked him awake.

And as he remembered the darkened, empty sky, heard the echoes of his desperate, strangled cries, Lucas realized he was alone.

In his dreamland, he's the only one living on the ground. Eliott lived in the sky, almost unreachable, lightyears away. He never walked with Lucas through the forests, or by the river. It was Lucas who had to float up beyond where his fingers could reach. It was Lucas who had to somehow defy gravity and fly to reach Eliott. Eliott never left his place in the sky. He never descended down to the earth, his body made of stars and light. 

But now Lucas's world was gone, destroyed and burned, and Eliott was gone now, too.

Lucas was really and truly alone.

You've ruined everything.

He cried harder, his whole body trembling as he sobbed. Maybe Lucille was right. Eliott will only hurt him. He'll stay up there in the sky, in some world where everything was perfect. Where secrets don't matter because all you'll do is love someone and that's what matters. Lucas once wished for a world like that, too, the first time he truly reached for the night sky. When he could see the world Eliott lived in within his eyes. Lucas counted the stars in them, in every twinkle and sparkle. How he wanted to live in those stars, live inside Eliott and his warm smiles and strong hands. He wanted to live. He thought he could do that with Eliott, despite everything the voice in his head told him. Despite him thinking he belonged on earth, on the ground. Despite him thinking stars were only meant to be gazed at, or that they're so far away for a reason. 

But, just like in his dream, Lucas is suddenly falling. He was caught in-between the distant, empty sky and the hard, nearing ground. Maybe Eliott wasn't there because he had left, but that he was hiding from Lucas. Perhaps he was bored, ready to move on. Maybe he was too ashamed of Lucas knowing the truth about him he couldn't bear being near him anymore.

No matter his reasoning, he left Lucas to the pull of gravity. Lucas took a small, faltering step and Eliott didn't bother to catch him. 

Maybe the voice in Lucas's head was right. He should've stayed on the ground, where he belonged. He should've wandered fantastical, impossible forests by himself until someone finally offered to walk with him. He shouldn't have reached as far as he did, flown as high as he did. 

Maybe it truly was better if he never saw or spoke to Eliott ever again.

Lucas skipped school Thursday and Friday. The mere thought of seeing Eliott or Lucille again was enough to send him on the verge of panic. Besides, he barely had the strength to get out of his bed. He rarely ate, rarely slept, and spent most of his time staring at his ceiling, lost in thought. He still couldn't stop thinking about Eliott, about his dream, about everything that's happened between them since the school film festival. Lucas was starting to regret ever leaving the flatshare that night.

His roommates tried to talk to him the whole weekend. Manon told him how everyone was texting her asking him where he was and if he was okay. He told her to tell them that he'll be back as soon as he can. Mika would try to coax him out of bed, or convince him to eat something or watch TV with them. Lucas usually declined. Then he would listen to Lisa ask Manon and Mika why Lucas was upset, if something had happened to him. They always replied that they didn't know, that he hadn't told them yet. On Saturday, Lucas could tell Manon had an actual answer, but she lowered her voice. Lucas couldn't hear what she was telling them. On any other day it would've made him nervous, hearing her talk about him behind his back like that, but he was too exhausted to care. He didn't dwell on what she could be talking about, either. That was too much energy, too.

On Sunday, as the day dragged on, Lucas could feel his depression turn into restlessness. He felt an itching, a longing. He was fidgeting, finding things around his room to play with to keep his hands occupied. This anxious energy frankly frightened Lucas. He did have anxious tendencies, but this bout of hyperactivity was something he had never really experienced before. He needed to do something.

As he searched his room at nightfall, he found his notebook sitting on his desk, the front cover feathered with dust. He stopped in his tracks, staring at the poor, neglected thing. He picked it up, brushing the dust off of it. He missed writing. He hadn't written in it since he had that first dream in his mystical, whimsical world. It had been over a week. Maybe he needed to write. Maybe a quick stream of consciousness journaling will ease his anxieties.

He grabbed a pen lying next to the notebook and sat down on his bed. Just a quick writing session. Then maybe he'd eat something afterward.

He opened his notebook, landing on the first page. His eyes glanced over at the sticky note attached to the back of the plastic cover. He studied his mother's handwriting, curly and frantic like his, and the words that had become a sort of epitaph:

This may be your thousandth notebook, but I can't wait to see what you'll write in this one. Happy birthday, Lucas. Love, Mom.

He reread the note what felt like hundreds of times. Every time he reached the end of it, his eyes immediately scanned back to the beginning, as if they were stuck on a loop.

He knew he couldn't show his mother anything he'd written in this notebook. When he was younger, he would always show her the stories he'd been working on. And she always smiled and told him how talented he was already. No matter what horrible or cliche ideas he'd shoved in her face, she read every word of it and told him it was amazing. Back then, he wrote about heroic knights and sinister dragons, beautiful princesses and evil queens. He wrote about talking animals and superheroes, witches and wizards and demigods. The older he got, the more his heart ached and the more his brain tortured him. The older he got, the more his hand shook as he wrote. The older he got, the more he hid his notebooks, the more he clutched his writings close to his chest, as if shielding it from the world. He couldn't remember the last time he showed his mom any of his writings.

He felt a pang in his chest as he wondered what would happen if he showed her the poem he sent to Eliott, the one he showed to his roommates. How would she feel seeing her son compare her love to an old, useless blanket, her lullabies to screeching, discordant noise? How would she feel knowing her son fell asleep every night hearing her cry in the other room? How would she feel reading about how her son feels so lost he doesn't see a point in moving any further? How he feels like he doesn't have a family anymore? How if he stares at another boy for a fraction of a moment too long, he feels like he would die? How much would her heart break? How many tears would she cry for her poor, sweet boy? How would this shape the way she loved him? How would this shape the way she behaves in the future? How much shame would she feel every time she looked over her shoulder at her cloudy, misty past? And how could Lucas do this to her? How could he be such a selfish, ignorant son?

But as he thought, something stirred deep inside his chest. He wanted his mother. He needed his mother. He didn't need to show her his notebook. He could just talk to her. He could call her and tell her everything she needed to know. And he could hear her voice and remember the times he could talk to his mother about anything. Tonight, he decided, would be one of those times. Even if all she really could offer him was a small square of fabric as a blanket or an off-key song to calm his heart and mind, he needed her.

He grabbed his phone off of his nightstand, turning it back on for the first time since Wednesday. He ignored his endless list of notifications, finding his mother's contact and pressing the "call" button. He took a deep breath as the line started ringing. His mother answered almost immediately.

"Hi, sweetie!" she cooed, her voice sweet and thick with honey.

Tears welled in Lucas's eyes. He missed hearing her call him that. "Hey, Mom."

"Is everything okay?" she asked, starting to sound a little worried. "You don't usually call me."

He felt a twinge of regret. "Yeah, it's just..."

"What is it, honey?" she asked as Lucas trailed off. "Is it school or...?"

"No, school is fine," Lucas replied quickly. He took a deep breath. "I think I fell in love, Mom."

His mother gasped, practically squealing. "Lucas, that's great! I'm so happy for you. I know your breakup with Sarah last year was rough."

Lucas shivered at the memory. "Yeah, it was."

"Tell me all about this new girl, honey. Where you met her, what she's like, I wanna know everything."

Lucas bit his lip. He was hoping he could stall this moment just a bit longer, but now was his chance. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes.

"I fell in love with a boy, Mama."

He hadn't called his mother "mama" since his first day of kindergarten. He thought that now he was in kindergarten, he was a big boy. And big boys don't call their mothers "mama." She walked him to school, holding his hand. Once they got closer to the school, he let go of her hand. Big boys don't hold their mother's hands. And once she dropped him off at his classroom, he said, "Goodbye, Mom," and found his seat. He remembered his mother lingering by the door, a single tear rolling down her cheek. He never understood why she was crying. Now there he was, over ten years later, calling her "mama" again. It was a childish, desperate plea. He was four years old again and crying for his mother.

He waited for her to start yelling at him, or to hang up and never speak to him again. He held his breath, tears falling silently down his face. Please, Mama, please...

"What's his name?" she finally said. Her voice wasn't judgmental or angry, but quiet and curious.

"Eliott," Lucas choked out. "His name's Eliott."

"Tell me everything about him, sweetie." 

Lucas sniffled, hoping he could speak through his tears. "He's a third year. He loves movies. He wants to be a big Hollywood director one day. His favorite animal is a raccoon. And he likes to draw. And when he draws me, he draws a hedgehog. He has eyes like thunderclouds, mysterious but comforting at the same time. He always holds my face in his hands when he kisses me. He tastes like cinnamon and sugar and smoke. He's always smiling. He has the best smile. He..."

Lucas trailed off, unpleasant memories suddenly creeping in. A sob ripped out of his throat.

"He broke my heart, Mama."

"Oh, honey," his mother cooed. Lucas thought he heard tears in her voice, too. "I'm so sorry. Do you wanna tell me what happened?"

Lucas laughed sadly. "It's a long story."

"I have time, baby," she replied immediately.

Lucas shook his head. "I don't wanna talk about it yet."

"Okay." After a moment, she spoke again. "How are you doing?"

Lucas took a deep, quivering breath. "When is it gonna stop hurting?"

"It won't, sweetie," she answered, her voice breaking. "It'll get better, but it'll always sting. Unless you try again."

"Try again?" Lucas repeated, sniffling.

"I can tell you love him, Lucas," she said. "You can't just give up on him."

"You don't know what happened, Mom," Lucas mumbled.

"Did you hear yourself earlier? You love this boy so much. Don't let him go, Lucas. You owe it to yourself and to Eliott to talk to him and see if he wants to start over."

Lucas didn't know what to say.

"I don't want you becoming bitter and angry like I did, Lucas. After your father left... I was angry and sad and I made so many mistakes. That can't happen to you, too."

Lucas bit back a sob, held back all the memories.

"Promise you'll at least try," his mother urged. "Just try."

"I promise, Mama." 

"You haven't called me that since your first day of kindergarten," she chuckled. Lucas could hear a smile in her voice. 

"I've said 'mama' like five times this whole conversation," Lucas laughed. 

"I know, I know. I just missed hearing you call me that, sweetie. I miss you."

Lucas sniffled, getting emotional again. "I miss you, too, Mama. I shouldn't have been so hard on you. I'm sorry."

"No, sweetie, it's okay," she dismissed. "I should've been there for you. I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, Mama." Lucas replied, feeling himself smile.

He paused, biting his lip.

"Um... are you okay with this?" he asked slowly. "Me liking boys?"

"You're my son, Lucas," his mother replied. "You're my baby. I don't think there's anything in this world you could do or say that would make me love you any less. My love for you can only grow."

Warmth spread across Lucas's chest as he couldn't hold back his tears anymore. All he could muster out when he spoke was, "Thank you, Mama."

"Oh, I think I have to go," his mother said suddenly. She must not have heard him. "Remember your promise, okay? And if things do work out, I want you two over for dinner ASAP. Got it?"

Lucas grinned, sniffling. "Got it."

"I love you so much, baby."

"I love you too, Mama."

"Call me again soon, okay?"

"I will."

"Bye, honey."

"Bye, Mom."

Lucas waited for his mother to hang up first. Once she did, he let out the deepest sigh of relief. He had imagined how this exact situation would play out so many times it felt more like a memory. He imagined his mother bursting into tears, claiming he'd been possessed by the devil, or yelling at him for being such a disappointment and a sinner of a son. He rarely ever imagined her reacting the way she did. With love, with care, like a good mother should. Lucas felt now that his relationship with his mother wasn't complicated anymore. He'd always known she loved him, deep down, but he hadn't felt so loved by his mother in years. Things were starting to get better between them, finally.

Later that night, Lucas set an alarm for him to wake up in time for school. While he still dreaded the idea of seeing Eliott or Lucille, a great weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. He had finally come out to his mother. He felt strong, brave, free.

By the time he went to sleep, he slept peacefully for the first time in almost a week.

Lucas sensed something was wrong the second he stepped into the courtyard. He could feel people staring at him, hear them whisper to each other. He suddenly felt incredibly uneasy, his heart racing a little and his palms beginning to sweat. 

He saw Yann, Arthur, and Basile in their usual spot, talking and chattering. They seemed a little down, not nearly as energetic as they would be if Lucas were there. He hadn't told them he would be coming to school today, hoping it would be a nice surprise for them. He walked over to them slowly, ignoring the stares and whispers, waiting for one of them to notice he was there.

Yann spotted Lucas first. He jumped to his feet, punching Arthur and Basile and pointing at him. He ran over to him, smiling so wide it looked almost painful. He crashed into Lucas, squeezing him into a hug. Arthur and Basile weren't too far behind. Lucas felt like he was at the bottom of a dogpile, but he needed a hug from his friends so badly. He tried to hug everyone back, tears of joy and gratitude in his eyes. He felt so warm, so loved.

"You guys are acting like I've come back from the dead or something," Lucas laughed.

"For all we knew you were dead, mec!" Yann replied. "You might as well have dropped off the face of the planet."

"I know, I'm sorry."

"And Manon couldn't tell us what was wrong because she didn't know, either," Arthur chimed in.

"Yeah, so the only logical conclusion we could come to was that you were dead." Basile finished.

Lucas sighed. He'd have a lot of explaining to do. 

The whispers got a bit louder, suddenly. Lucas looked around, seeing everyone stare at him. His uneasiness came back, fraying his nerves.

"Why is everyone staring at me and whispering?" he finally asked, his voice frail.

Yann looked to the side, Arthur studied his shoes, and Basile gazed up at the sky.

"Guys, please," Lucas said, practically begging. "What's going on?"

Basile and Arthur both looked at Yann. Yann looked at Lucas, a pity in his eyes that Lucas couldn't stand.

"There's... rumors going around," Yann began, slowly. "About you and that Eliott guy."

Lucas's heart dropped to his feet. No...

"What are they saying?" Lucas urged, afraid of the answer.

"There have been a bunch of different stories, but most of them basically say that his girlfriend caught you two together. What you two were actually doing is up for debate, but..." Yann trailed off, biting his lip.

Lucas shook his head, his throat closing up. "We were dancing..."

He felt his friends wrap him in another tight group hug as soon as he felt tears roll down his cheeks. He let himself sob, let his real world crash around him. Everything about his current situation was painful. He didn't get to come out on his own terms, defend himself or tell his side of the story. Everyone knew he was gay now, but no one would know that it was his fault things were over between him and Eliott. Everyone was whispering about him, staring at him, breathing down his neck. He didn't have control over anything anymore. It wasn't fair.

The warning bell rang, and everyone staring and whispering scurried off to their first class. Yann, Arthur, and Basile pulled away from the hug. Lucas rubbed at his face, trying to collect himself.

"Are you gonna be okay, mec?" Yann asked.

Lucas took a deep breath. He thought for a moment, then nodded. But he wasn't sure if he would be.

"What if we hung out at your place after school?" Basile suggested. "We could hang out, cheer you up, you know?"

"I'm down," Yann replied.

"Count me in," Arthur added.

Lucas smiled, genuinely. "Thanks, guys. I'd like that."

Basile grinned, holding both of his hands up in the air, waiting for a high five. Lucas stifled a chuckle as he walked right past him, Arthur and Yann following him.

"Guys, come on!" Basile whined, running after them. "No, wait for me!"

Arthur and Lucas broke off from the group, heading to their biology class. Lucas already felt lighter, freer. 

"You know, my mom has a lesbian friend," Arthur said, trying (and failing) to sound casual.

"Oh, really?" Lucas replied, quirking an eyebrow. 

"Yeah, and she's one of the coolest people I know." Arthur nodded, pushing up his glasses. "And then there was this one time I accidentally walked into a gay bar. One of the best nights of my life."

Lucas chuckled softly. "They are pretty fun, aren't they?"

"And it's almost June! That's Pride Month, isn't it? We could all go to a pride parade together! Well, me, Yann, and Basile would just be there for moral support, you know. But allyship, right?"

Arthur stumbled through the word "allyship," but Lucas couldn't help but smile. Arthur was trying way too hard, but Lucas knew it was because he cared. Arthur was the newest member of the gang, but Lucas always wanted to learn a little more about him. Arthur was speaking volumes at this moment, more than he ever had since he joined the group.

"I'd love to go to a pride parade with you guys," Lucas laughed. "Just us mecs. Le gang."

They laughed for a moment, then Arthur tousled Lucas's hair. "I know things didn't go the way you wanted them to, but on behalf of the rest of our gang, I wanna tell you we're proud of you, Lucas. You know that, right?"

Tears pricked at his eyelashes again, but Lucas nodded. "I know."

They walked into their classroom the second the late bell rang. Lucas felt like the day could get a little easier from now on.

As he sat next to Imane, he braced himself for the multitude of pointed questions she must have. She was scribbling some notes on a piece of paper. She only acknowledge Lucas's existence when she handed him a small stack of papers without looking at him.

"Those are the notes you missed," she told him curtly. "Text me if you have any questions."

"Thanks," Lucas replied, stuffing the notes into his backpack. 

"Is it true, then?" Imane asked suddenly, finally looking at him. "All the rumors about you?"

Lucas took a deep breath. "For the most part, yes. Eliott and I had a thing, and it's over."

Imane offered a sad smile. She clapped her hand on his shoulder, rubbing his back a little. She turned her attention back to her notes.

Lucas thought he might cry again. In her own little way, Imane has showed him he accepts him.

As soon as Lucas walked into the common room with the rest of the gang, Daphné practically pounced on him.

"Is it true, Lucas?" she asked eagerly. "You're gay?"

Lucas was taken aback, but he nodded, letting himself smile. "Yeah, I am."

Daphné squealed, tackling Lucas into a hug and kissing him on the cheek.

Lucas would never forget the look of shock and betrayal that was on Basile's face in that moment. He wished he could've taken a picture of it.

"You know, Daphné," Basile began, already stammering badly. "I'm straight. Straight as a lamppost. Don't the straights deserve a hug, too? And a kiss on the cheek?"

Daphné turned around, her demeanor annoyed and tired. "I know you're straight, Basile. Painfully so. And straights don't deserve hugs or kisses if they're being creepy."

She walked right past him, bumping into his shoulder. Basile looked like he had just slapped in the face, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open. His gaze flickered back and forth between Daphné and Lucas. He was completely baffled.

"So Daphné hugs you and kisses you just because you're gay?" he asked, frustrated now.

Lucas shrugs, trying to stifle a laugh. "Sorry, Bas."

"Maybe if you took our advice and stopped being creepy," Yann cut in. "She'd actually be interested in you."

"How was that creepy?" Basile asked, genuinely curious.

"Did you hear yourself?" Arthur laughed. "'Don't the straights deserve a hug, too?' You need to think before you speak."

"No, but I was..." Basile struggled to find the word he was looking for.

"Jealous?" Lucas finished for him teasingly.

"No!" Basile cried, obviously not catching Lucas's tone. "I was flustered."

The other boys nodded, feeling a little bad for Basile's seemingly millionth rejection, but chuckling softly.

Lucas suddenly felt someone hug him from behind. He tried to flinch away at first, but then he heard Emma's laugh and relaxed. He hugged her back as best as he could.

"We missed you, Lulu," she said, her voice soft and fond. "We thought you died or something."

"I didn't die!" Lucas rolled his eyes playfully. "Why would I go off and die after a breakup? Do you guys think I'm that dramatic?"

Emma was silent. Yann, Arthur, and Basile avoided eye contact with him again.

"Never mind, don't answer that question." Lucas sighed, defeated.

"How are you doing?" Emma asked him, releasing him from her bear hug.

"I'm okay," Lucas replied. And he meant it. "I'm not facing it alone anymore."

"Aww," Emma cooed. "I was hoping softie Lucas would make a reappearance sometime." 

Lucas rolled his eyes. "Shut up, Em."

"Wait," Alexia interrupted, walking over to them. "Lucas Lallemant is still alive?"

Lucas rolled his eyes again. "Yes, Alexia, I am, indeed, alive."

Alexia broke into a grin and gave him a tight hug. "Welcome to the club, Lucas."

"Club?" Lucas echoed, chuckling.

"Us gays have gotta stay together," Alexia pointed out. "People are after us."

"When does this 'club' meet then?" Lucas asked, grinning.

"Tuesdays and Thursdays, 17:00," Alexia replied. "I'd better see you at the next meeting, Lallemant. You're on thin ice."

Alexia gave Lucas another hug as they laughed.

The lunch break was freeing, simple. Lucas really meant it when he said he felt so much better now that he knew he wasn't alone. He had a group of friends to laugh with, a new club where the gays stick together and protect each other. Despite a bit of a rough start of the day, Lucas couldn't imagine how he would be feeling or what would be happening if he'd stayed in bed that morning. He was opening up, now. He came out to his mom, his friends know now and support him 100%. 

He unconsciously pushed away a stray thought of Eliott, of how he was doing. Then his mother's voice echoed quietly in his head:

Don't let him go, Lucas.

Lucas's first day back went a lot quicker and a lot smoother than he thought it would. Sure, it started out a bit rough, but as he walked off campus with his best friends, he felt like everything was gonna be okay. He listened to his friends chatter away, laughing and grinning. His smile, his genuine smile, was truly coming back now. Lucas missed smiling.

The bus ride home was hectic to say the least. Yann and Lucas tried to tell Arthur and Basile to keep their voices down, but the two rattled on and on about the most random things. Basile, of course, was stuck on Daphné, while Arthur tried to give him advice, yet again, on how to stop being creepy around her. 

"I just don't understand why she hugged Lucas and kissed him on the cheek!" Basile cried out, frustrated and confused.

"Lucas is unobtainable now," Arthur reasoned. "For girls, anyway. Girls love gay guys because they can't have them. And that just makes them want them even more."

"Um," Lucas hummed, unsure. "I don't think that's how it works, Arthur."

"Of course that's how it works!" 

Lucas shook his head. "I really don't think that that's how it works."

"But Alexia had a crush on you last year," Basile added. 

"She has a boyfriend now, Bas," Lucas replied. "And she didn't know I'm gay last year. No one did."

Arthur and Basile shrugged. 

"That's just how it works." Arthur repeated.

Lucas rolled his eyes, but he couldn't help but smile.

"Isn't this it?" Yann said, pointing ahead. 

"Oh, yeah," Lucas confirmed, using the small button near the window to alert the driver.

"Oh, are we here already?" Basile asked, perking up.

The bus rolled to a stop, the doors cracking open with a hiss. The boys clambered off the bus, poor Basile somehow dropping his backpack on the way. He grabbed it quickly, though, and caught up with the others.

As they went through the front door, Lucas told them to hurry to his room. He didn't want to bother his roommates too much, even though he warned them the other boys would be coming over.

Everyone dropped their backpacks and left their shoes by the door, then plopped onto Lucas's bed.

"Your room is actually pretty clean," Arthur commented.

Lucas shrugged. "I didn't have time to make a mess."

"What do you mean?" Yann asked.

"I've stayed in bed for the most part since Wednesday," Lucas mumbled. "Look, I'm not quite ready to talk about what happened yet. Can't we be normal for a bit longer?"

The boys nodded, almost in sync.

"Of course," Yann replied, sympathetic.

"Sure," Arthur added, casual.

"Yeah, I guess," Basile shrugged, a little awkward.

"Thanks, mecs," Lucas smiled. "I would probably still be spiraling if it weren't for you guys."

"Bros before..." Basile started, then trailed off. "What would Eliott be in this situation?"

"Mecs before wrecks?" Arthur offered.

Lucas shook his head. "He's not a wreck. He's going through things, too."

Lucas's phone buzzed in his pocket. He checked it out of habit, then saw a message from Eliott.

Ellie: [image]

Ellie: [image]

Of course Eliott wouldn't let Lucas distract himself from him.

"Is someone texting you?" Yann asked.

Lucas sighed. "Eliott."

"What's he saying?" Arthur pressed.

"Nothing," Lucas dismissed. "He's just sending me pictures."

When Lucas saw his friends' eyes bulging out of their heads, he rolled his eyes.

"Relax, it's not what you think," Lucas said. "Get your minds out of the gutter."

Lucas's phone buzzed again. And again. And again and again. A little frustrated, he pulled his phone out and turned off the ringer.

Don't let him go, Lucas

"What are the pictures of, then?" Arthur continued.

Lucas shrugged. "I didn't look at them. I don't understand him now. I don't think I really know anything about him anymore."

He felt a hand on his knee. Yann's.

"Lucas," he said, his eyes earnest. "What happened?"

Lucas bit his lip. He shrugged again, not sure how else to respond.

"This is obviously tearing you apart," Yann continued. "Please tell us something."

"Eliott's..." Lucas took a deep breath, preparing himself before he spoke this unfamiliar, bitter word. "Bipolar."

Basile's brows furrowed. "Why do you say that like it's some bad word? He's bipolar. So what? My mom is bipolar, too."

Lucas's eyes widened. "Bas, I'm so sorry."

"What are you sorry for?" Basile laughed, puzzled. "It's not like she has six months to live or anything. She's just super excited and energetic sometimes and some other times she's tired and depressed. And Eliott is texting you a bunch, right? He's probably excited, then."

Lucas shrugged. "I don't know. He was just acting weird. He made sandwiches with turkey and cheese and cardamom and chocolate sauce. He talked for a solid ten minutes about how we'll get married in Cannes and honeymoon in Santorini. He made me a whole playlist that was like, four hours long. He was bouncing around and dancing. He was one giant ball of energy and I couldn't keep up with him."

"That's it?" Basile asked.

Anger sparked in Lucas's chest, just for a moment. "What?"

"Sorry," Basile recovered. "Everyone's mania is different. Maybe he wasn't super excited yet. i just have a million stories about my mom when she was manic. Flying to LA to stalk Tom Cruise's house, getting train station workers fired, public nudity, all that."

The more Basile talked, the more confused Lucas became. "What are you talking about?"

"Listen," Basile began, shaking his head. "My mom's bipolar doesn't stop her from being an awesome mom. It doesn't stop her from loving me. It may prevent her from doing other things, but she still cares about the people around her. I'm sure Eliott's the same way. If he had the courage to tell you—"

"He didn't tell me," Lucas cut in. "Well, he didn't tell me outright."

"Well, then how did he tell you?" Basile asked, suddenly confused.

"Lucille showed up while we were dancing to his little playlist," Lucas explained, omitting the whole betrayal part. "And they started arguing, and she said that me being worried about him was his fault. Then he blurted out that it's not his fault he's bipolar."

"Lucille? His ex?" Yann interrupted, clarifying.

Lucas nodded. "So he said that, then he ran off."

"How did she know you were worried about him?" Basile asked. "Your story needs more details, Lallemant."

Lucas sighed. "I texted her. I told her where we were and that Eliott was acting strange. She said she was gonna go talk to him. And she chewed him out."

"And she accused him of, what, manipulating you?" Basile replied, trying to make all the pieces fit. "And that the whole situation was his fault?"

Lucas nodded. He didn't feel much like talking anymore.

"Well, Lucas, you'd better write that down as something you don't tell a bipolar person," Basile concluded. "Eliott knows that what he's doing is wrong. But he can't control his mania or his depression. It's embarrassing, it's shameful. My mom lashes out sometimes, and as soon as the mania passes, she hates herself for letting herself get angry. She always said her disorder treats her like its little puppet sometimes. The puppet can't be held 100% accountable for the puppeteer's actions, right?"

"Right," Lucas muttered.

"Lucas, have you talked to Eliott at all since that happened?" Basile asked.

Lucas shook his head.

"Talk to him, Lucas," Basile stated, firmer and more confident than Lucas had ever seen him. "He may still be manic right now, but you need to be there once the depression hits him, if it hasn't already. He needs you and he loves you. Bipolar people are capable of emotion outside of and despite their episodes. They're not emotionless robots with mood swings."

Lucas sighed, his mind swimming. His only real discernible thought was his mother's voice again, coupled with Basile's.

Don't let him go, Lucas

Talk to him, Lucas

Lucas got his phone and opened Eliott's messages. They were drawings. A raccoon with bloody scratches on its face and tears in its eyes. A cat with its mouth quirked to a sharp, cutting smirk, its ears perked up, and claws bared. A cat standing near a hedgehog, its tail drifting across its face. A hedgehog writing on a notepad, alone. A raccoon lying in its bed, staring up at nothing. A raccoon holding up a styrofoam cup to its ear, the yarn attached to it leading to nothing. The string had been cut, and the other cup lied in the dirt. 

"What are the pictures of?" Basile said.

"Drawings. Of him, me. There's like six of them."

"He's reaching out to you, Lucas," Basile replied. "Reach back to him."

"But what do I say?" Lucas asked.

"Just ask him if he's okay," Basile answered. "Ask him if he's willing to talk about what happened. He wants to talk to you. Let him."

Lucas sighed, staring back down at his screen. Hesitantly, unsure, he typed out a message.

Lucas: I know I've been ignoring you but I want to talk. I need to know that you'll be okay. I'm not sure if you are right now.

He hit "send" before he could let himself overthink about it. He dropped his phone in front of him, afraid to touch it again.

"You sent it?" Basile confirmed.

Lucas nodded. He held his breath.

Everyone was staring at his phone screen, waiting for Eliott's reply.

Lucas grabbed his phone the second his screen lit up. He sighed, disappointed.

Mika: You guys are awfully quiet in there

Lucas: We're fine. Please leave us alone?

Mika: Fine. I know when I'm not wanted.

Lucas: Thank you

"It was just Mika," Lucas reported. "What if he doesn't reply?"

"He's going to," Basile guaranteed. "I promise."

"When?" Lucas asked. "How long do I wait until I should start getting worried?"

Basile considered, then shrugged a little. "A day?"

Lucas sighed. "And what do I do when it's been over a day?"

"Listen, you're not gonna need to worry about that," Basile interrupted. "He'll reply by the time you go to bed. That's a guarantee."

That's the same thing Manon told him that one day when Eliott might as well have disappeared. And look where that led him. Lucas would be lying if he said he wasn't feeling uneasy about this whole situation.

I don't know how to talk to him anymore, he thought to himself.

"What do you mean?" Basile asked, taken aback.

Did Lucas really say that out loud? He shrugged in response.

"You talk to him like you always do," Basile told him simply. "You don't need to talk to him a certain way now that you know he's bipolar. He hasn't magically become a different person."

Lucas shrugged again. "I know. I don't know why I said that. I didn't even realize I'd said it out loud."

"Yeah, when Basile asked you what you meant your eyes bugged out of your head," Arthur chuckled, trying to keep the mood somewhat light.

"This is really affecting you," Yann said quietly, making the conversation serious again.

Lucas nodded. "Right before Eliott ran off, he apologized to me. As if this was all his fault. And he probably really thinks it is his fault, too. All he ever did was love me but I was too scared and worried to trust him as much as he trusted me. I ruined everything. Lucille told Eliott the most terrible things, but none of that would've happened if I hadn't told her where we were. I trusted her more than I trusted him. And she was probably there picking up the pieces and telling him more things to make him feel like this was his fault. I didn't know what to do. I just sat there and cried for who knows how long? I was helpless. I was a traitor, I was alone, and I'd lost Eliott. And then when I finally work up the courage to go back to school, to maybe see Eliott or Lucille again, I found out she took what was mine. She took my sexuality, my feelings, and turned them into a big rumor. I didn't even get to come out to you guys the way I wanted to. She took that away from me. And she did the same thing to Eliott. She basically forced him to tell me about his bipolar when he wasn't ready to tell me. But it's still all my fault. Not Lucille's, not Eliott's. Mine."

"That is why you need to talk to Eliott," Basile replied. "He needs to know all that. He needs to hear that."

"If he replies," Lucas mumbled.

"Why are you so worried that he won't reply?" Arthur cut in.

"What if he hates me?" Lucas replied. "What if he's mad at me?"

"He texted you drawings, Lucas," Yann reminded him. "Why would he send you drawings if he hates you? Unless the drawings are, like, drawings of you burning in hell or something."

Lucas managed a smile, shaking his head. "No, they're not. Look, I know I sound paranoid and crazy. I just can't stop thinking about him and I don't know what to do."

Suddenly, his phone buzzed. He grabbed it immediately. His eyes widened.

Ellie: im ok poet. i just miss u. i'd love to talk sometime. when i'm feeling a bit better. maybe after we talk i can work on some drawings and u can work on all those sonnets you promised me. it can be like a little date. i know our last one didn't end well. i want to tell you how sorry i am about last time. do you remember that one shakespeare sonnet you recited to me the night i kissed you? how did it go again? something about time and worth and a cruel hand? i've been thinking about it a lot. i think i get why u love it so much. time IS cruel. but ur not. ur words aren't cruel either. you write the prettiest words my poet. shakespeare is rolling in his grave. virginia woolf is watching u from heaven and she's a little jealous but she's smiling. then there's oscar wilde watching u from the deepest pit of hell. he's proud of u. yes time has been cruel to both u and me. let's cherish it. while we have some left. maybe after a while time will finally cut us some slack and let us be happy u know? i hope he does. time has to be kind to some ppl right? i'll let you know when i'm ready to talk my poet. when time is a little kinder, when my mind is a little kinder. but maybe if i have you i won't need kind time or a kind mind. ur the only kindness i'll need. ur the only kindness i'll ever need. i love u my poet. and time isn't strong enough to mess w that. my poet, my kindness, my love; my everything. goodnight.

"It's Eliott," Lucas said, rereading the message.

"I told you he'd reply!" Basile cheered, pumping his fist in the air.

"What'd he say?" Arthur questioned, leaning in closer to Lucas's phone.

"Is he okay?" Yann asked, looking nervous for them.

Lucas blushed a little. "He's okay. And he wants to talk once he feels a bit better."

"Lulu's blushing," Arthur teased.

"Shut up," Lucas replied, rolling his eyes. "What do I say back?"

"Just say you can't wait to talk with him or something," Basile suggested. "Or that you miss him."

Lucas nodded and started typing.

Lucas: I love and miss you too. Hope you get to feeling better soon <3

He hit send, sighing in relief. Eliott was okay. Everything was gonna be okay. 

"You did it?" Basile asked, expectant.

"I did it," Lucas nodded, smiling.

The other boys cheered, giving him high fives and fist bumps. And Lucas smiled. It spread slowly, joy soaking into his features until his cheeks ached with it. And that smile rarely left his face the rest of the night.

After a long, loud evening of video games and laughter, the other boys needed to get home. As they all hugged him goodbye, Lucas felt his heart sink a little. He knew he couldn't force them to stay with him all night, but he was afraid of what his mind would do to him once he was alone. He had made so much progress today alone and he didn't want his mind to force him back two whole steps.

Once Lucas shut the door behind them, he leaned against it and sighed deeply. He shut his eyes as if that would turn his mind off.

"Are you okay, Lucas?" Manon's soft, sweet voice asked him.

Lucas opened his eyes. She was coming out of the kitchen, holding a cup of tea. She certainly looked a little concerned. Lucas nodded. "I will be."

Manon smiled. "That's good."

Lucas nodded.

"We were just about to play Guess Who," Manon said, pointing down the hallway. "We can move out here and you could play with us if you want. We could team up."

Lucas smiled. "Count me in."

Mika and Lisa entered the living room, muttering to each other about Lisa's love life again. Lucas had to try not to be offended when Mika told her that even he was getting romantic action.

"Hey, Lucas is gonna play with us," Manon told them.

"Oh, great!" Mika replied. "He's interacting with people. And me and Lisa are a team, I'm assuming?"

Lisa sighed, annoyed. "Whatever."

The game was already sitting on the coffee table, so they gathered around it and each team set up their own dashboard.

"Do you wanna pick our character?" Manon asked once they had everything set up.

Lucas scanned the cast of characters, then his eyes landed on Claire. She has a round face, ruddy cheeks, red, curly hair, blue glasses, and a hat with flowers on it. Lucas remembered Manon saying Claire reminded her of this eccentric next door neighbor she had as a kid. She was always making cookies and watering her plants. Lucas smiled as he whispered Claire's name in Manon's ear. Manon smiled, too, touched that Lucas had remembered.

"Are you two ready to lose?" Mika asked, a competitive glint in his eyes.

"Are you ready to lose?" Lucas challenged, raising an eyebrow.

"Is your character male?" Mika retorted, even though they agreed Lucas and Manon would go first.

"No," Lucas answered simply. "Is your character male?"

"Yes," Mika confirmed, uneasy.

Mika and Lucas went back and forth for a while. Manon and Lisa stared at each other, unnerved. 

"Wait," Lucas said, receiving and epiphany. "You're Philip, aren't you?"

"How did you know?" Mika asked, voice low.

"You pick him every other game because you think he's hot," Lucas replied as if it were obvious. "Which, I mean, he kinda is."

Mika shrugged. "So you can't really blame me, can you?"

"Great game, everyone!" Manon interrupted, clapping her hands. "Let's switch teams."

Lucas's phone buzzed in his pocket again. He checked it quickly as Manon and Lisa switched sides.

Unknown: It's Lucille again. Have you seen Eliott? We can't find him anywhere

Unknown: I even checked that weird tunnel place and he wasn't there either

Unknown: Please answer as soon as you can. We're really worried

Lucas's brow furrowed.

Lucas: What do you mean?

Unknown: I mean he's MISSING Lucas

Unknown: We don't know where he is

"What's wrong, Lucas?" Manon asked.

"Eliott's run off somewhere," Lucas replied, distracted.

"What?" Mika and Manon asked at the same time.

"I've gotta go," Lucas said, throwing on his shoes and getting his rain jacket.

He was running out the door when his phone buzzed again.

Ellie: please find me my poet

Lucas walked as fast as he could down the hallway, his heart racing. He took the stairs instead of the elevator, hoping it would be faster.

His mind was racing, but at the forefront was Lucille's words from what felt like a million years ago.

Eliott, the last time I left you alone you—

He ran faster, starting to skip steps. If Lucille meant what he thought she meant, he couldn't afford to waste time.

He finally reached the bottom floor, slowing down his pace a little as he walked out the front door.

As soon as he stepped outside, he was soaked. He looked around, trying to figure out where Eliott would be. If he wasn't at his favorite place in the city, where could he possibly be? Maybe he could be at the school, where the film festival was held and him and Lucas met for the first time?

He heard footsteps behind him as he started walking towards the direction of the school. He looked over his shoulder and stopped in his tracks.

There, under a streetlamp and a golden haze of mist and rain, stood Eliott.

Lucas thought his chest was going to explode. His heart was beating harder than it had all night. A smile barely tugged at his lips, but he felt like he might burst into tears. He was bursting, breaking, rupturing, cracking. But he was full of relief. He'd spent almost a week convincing himself Eliott was a mistake, that he deserved to feel terrible because he'd brought all this on himself. Then he started healing. He came out to his mother, he confided in his friends, and he's learning how to accept himself and realize who he is isn't a mistake. Finally, he saw Eliott again, standing there in the rain, just barely there in the distance. Eliott was the last piece Lucas needed to have closure, to make it to the end of this all too short yet everlasting torment this week had been.

The next thing Lucas knew, he was running again, splashing into puddles that soaked through his shoes. 

Eliott is okay, Eliott is okay, Eliott is okay

Eliott is the answer, Eliott is the answer, Eliott is the answer

All the joy, all the relief that was inside of him came bursting out. Tears rolled down his face, mingling with drops of rain. He let himself grin, beam. He ran faster, light and warmth spreading throughout his body. He thought for a moment that one step could send him floating through the air, just like his dreams. His every breath, his every heartbeat, his every thought whispered Eliott's name. Eliott was wrapping around him, even when he was still several feet away.

When Lucas finally reached Eliott, he threw his arms around his neck, holding onto him as tightly as he could.

"I've found you," he whispered in Eliott's ear, his voice breaking. "You're not alone anymore. I promise."

Lucas could hear Eliott's muffled sobs, feel his body tremble. He hugged him tighter.

"I've found you," he repeated, sniffling. "I've found you and I love you."

"I'm sorry," Eliott choked out. "I was afraid. I was afraid of the dark. So I left you in the dark even though you're afraid of it, too."

"No," Lucas replied firmly, shaking his head. "No, don't say you're sorry. It's not your fault. It was never your fault."

"I left you," Eliott sobbed, breaking the hug. "I abandoned you. You were alone this whole time. It took me days to work up the courage to text you, and that was when I was still manic!"

"I wasn't alone," Lucas said, reaching to cup Eliott's face in his hands. "And I don't want you to be alone either. That's why I'm here now. So you're not facing this alone. Because for those first few days after, I was alone. I shut everyone out and I was so lost. I'm not gonna let that happen to you."

"I can feel myself getting depressed, Lucas," Eliott sighed, sniffling. He looked defeated. "It's gonna happen anyway."

"It doesn't have to, Eliott!" Lucas cried, emphatic. He bit his lip as more tears welled in his eyes. "It doesn't have to. I'll be here. I promise. I'm here now, and I'm gonna stay. You're not gonna get rid of me that easily."

"You haven't seen me at my worst yet," Eliott mumbled, his voice becoming more and more bleak with each word. "It's ugly. It's frustrating. It feels hopeless. I don't want you to see that. I can't let you see that."

"Why not?" Lucas asked quietly.

Eliott sobbed for another few minutes before he could answer. "Because I'll hurt you."

"I know it's not gonna be easy," Lucas replied, running his thumbs over Eliott's cheeks. "I know it's gonna hurt sometimes. But the hurting isn't your fault. It's not your fault you're bipolar. But we're gonna get through the hurt together. You and me. Against the hurt, against the world. It won't matter if we're boyfriends, or just friends, because I'll always be here. I'll be here until I write you ten million sonnets. I'll be here until my words are lost to the cruel hand of time. I'll always be here. I want to help you, Eliott. Because you help me. Because I love you."

"How?" Eliott asked, his voice cracking. "How do I help you? How can... why do you love me?"

Lucas pulled Eliott close, resting their foreheads against each other. "You make it easier to breathe. You make my heart want to keep beating. You make everything else in my mind go fuzzy and muffled and the clearest thing, the only thing, is you. You turn my nightmares into dreams. You make me feel like my life was created for loving you and listening to you laugh and seeing you smile. You make my name sound like the most sacred, most beautiful word you could ever speak. You make my toes curl and my nose wrinkle. You make me feel like you're the one thing in the entire world that makes all the planets in every universe align. You make me feel afraid that I could never find the words to express how much you mean to me. You helped me realize what love tastes like. You helped me realize that the night sky is a puzzle and once all the pieces fit together, I see your face. You helped me realize that life is beautiful and short yet so long and that it's truly a gift. You make me feel like myself again. I never knew what that meant, but now I do. Because of you. And I love you because it's what my bones sing to me at night. I love you because my blood hums your name as it courses through me. I love you because every groove of my fingertips craves you and your skin. I love you because the first thing my heart ever really told me was how much I was in love with you. I love you because I'm meant to. I love you because to love anybody else would unravel me until I'm nothing but a bundle of thread. I love you because it's the one thing I know how to do anymore. I love you because I love you, Eliott. I love you."

Lucas wiped away Eliott's tears, trying to hold back his own. He rubbed their noses together, just like Eliott used to.

"And if you'll have me, Eliott Demaury," Lucas continued. "I'll be on my deathbed giving you ten thousand more reasons why I love you."

Eliott smiled. He cupped Lucas's face in his hands. "I'll have you a million times over, Lucas Lallemant."

Lucas closed his eyes, feeling Eliott lean in close to him. He wondered if Eliott saw stars guiding him to his lips like he did. Eliott kissed him, slowly, barely, like a whisper. Lucas kissed him back, just as gentle and light. They were light as feathers, delicate. It felt like the rain falling on them, soft, sending a small shiver down your spine. Lucas ventured further, tasting rain and tears and smoke. Eliott wove his fingers into Lucas's hair, tangling and tousling it. Lucas pulled Eliott close, feeling him breathe against his chest. Eliott kissed him deeply, quickly, making his knees go weak. Eliott held him up with an arm around his waist. He pulled away, tilting Lucas's chin before kissing him again. Every touch, every breath was laced with joy, longing, belonging.

Lucas pulled away, his eyes still shut from the pure ecstasy of the moment. When he finally opened them, he saw Eliott, grinning. The golden light of the streetlamp brightened the blonde in his hair and the blue in his eyes. The light perfectly traced and etched every edge of Eliott's face. He looked like a movie star, or an angel. He looked beautiful. In looking at Eliott in this moment, in the rain and with this spotlight on him, Lucas felt closer to heaven than he'd ever been before. He let out a sob, one of sheer happiness and joy. He hugged Eliott again, burying his face in his shoulder. 

Don't let him go, Lucas, he remembered his mother telling him.

He held Eliott as tight as he could. He imagined their hearts bleeding together like they did before, their little songs harmonizing until they began singing the same tune. The song was familiar now to Lucas. Love.

"I won't let you go," Lucas promised. These were the sweetest words he'd ever tasted. They tasted like love, cotton candy, strawberries. He never wanted this flavor, this feeling, to leave his tongue.

"Nor I, my poet," Eliott swore, his voice soft and delicate yet so sure and firm. Lucas wondered how those words tasted for them.

They stood beneath the streetlamp until the rain let up and the sky cleared. Lucas looked up at the stars, feeling complete and whole. He buried his face in Eliott's neck, kissing him right where his pulse throbbed.

the poet with his muse, forever; all is right with the world