Archive of Our Own ^beta

Lucas flips mindlessly to the next page of the magazine. He’s not particularly interested in the contents. He’s not one to purchase magazines, really. Apparently Jean is.

He flicks to another page again, trying to make his mind focus on something other than the loud noises coming from Jean’s kitchen. His fingers itch with the chance to offer his help. He holds back because he knows Jean doesn’t want it.

You cook all day, Lucas. Let me treat you.

It’s a nice thought, a sweet offer. Good intentions all around. The only thing is Lucas loves cooking, and it’s a little painful to hear how horribly it must be going one room over. The sound of disrespected ingredients grates against his ears.

“Are you sure I can’t help?” Lucas tries anyways.

“No!”

Right. He flips to the next page, and then immediately throws the magazine back on the coffee table. It only takes a beat for him to realize what he just did and be embarrassed by it.

He picks the magazine back up with determination. It’s a picture - an ad, really. For underwear. Featuring a familiar face.

Lucas looks at it again.

Eliott.

He looks... God, he looks good. Defined muscles, artfully tossed bed head, little smirk, eyes focused directly on the camera lens.

Lucas feels a spark ignite in his cheeks.

“Lucas! It’s done!”

Right. Jean. The only person who should have his attention right now.

“Coming!”

Lucas drops the magazine and walks to the kitchen. Jean is plating up some sort of pasta. Lucas can see from the doorway his sauce has broken. The meat looks a little charred.

Jean is smiling, though, as he turns to offer Lucas a plate. It’s a nice smile, and he’s a nice guy. Handsome, too. Lucas can stomach some less-than-good pasta every now and then.

“Merci,” Lucas says, and he takes the plate. “Looks great.”

“Really?” Jean perks up at the complement.

“Really,” Lucas laughs. He almost adds that no one has ever cooked for him before, but then that’s not entirely true.

===

Lucas makes it home fairly early the next morning, declining Jean’s offer to make breakfast.

Breakfast is for couples, and he and Jean aren’t that. Even though he’s starting to think Jean would like them to be.

His phone pings right as he walks through his front door.

Jean: Found this on the coffee table. He’s hot, so I guess I shouldn’t be too jealous...

He’s attached a picture of Eliott’s magazine ad.

Shit.

Lucas: It’s not like that... we went to high school together. Always weird to see his stuff.

Jean: you know each other?? Maybe I should be jealous... ;)

He’s staring at his phone trying to think of a reply as he turns into his living room.

“Salut!”

Lucas most definitely does not shriek and throw his phone in the air.

Except he does.

“What the fuck?”

“Sorry!”

Lucas finally sets his eyes on the person who just scared the shit out of him. It’s Eliott. He didn’t even need to look to know. He’d recognize the voice anywhere.

“What are you doing here?” Lucas snaps. He moves to pick up his phone, but Eliott beats him to it.

“I have a few days off. I wanted to see you.”

“It’d be nice if you gave me a heads up instead of waiting around to scare the shit out of me.”

Lucas’ words are harsh, but he knows he’s not fooling Eliott at all. Before he knows it, they’re both grinning. A blink later they’re wrapped in each other’s arms.

He feels Eliott’s lips against the top of his head. A brief kiss.

“To be fair,” he mumbles against his hair, “I knocked when I got here.”

“Then used your key when no one answered.”

“Well it was 21h, and I needed somewhere to sleep.”

Lucas stiffens a bit.

“You got here last night?”

“Mhm,” Eliott takes a step back from their embrace. He lifts an amused eyebrow Lucas’ way. “It’s more than we can say for you. Where were you, young man?”

“Ha,” Lucas breathes out. “Nowhere. Somewhere. With a friend.”

“A friend gave you that?”

Eliott pushes his pointer finger into what must be a hickey on Lucas’ neck.

“Eliott!” Lucas squirms away and smacks his hand. “Fuck.”

“Who is he?” Eliott asks. “Your boyfriend?”

“Not a boyfriend,” Lucas says.

He can tell Eliott wants to press. He scans Lucas from head to toe, and he purses his lips as if deciding the best follow up question.

“Leave it, Eliott.”

Eliott reaches forward. He smooths some hair behind Lucas’ ear. He scratches there lightly.

“I missed you.”

That warm feeling from earlier? Multiply it by ten.

“Me too.”

The hand in his hair turns to two hands. Lucas looks up. They lock eyes briefly. Lucas bites on his bottom lip - a nervous habit that doesn’t last long because now they’re kissing.

Lucas has missed nearly everything about Eliott. His smile, his laugh, the way he smells so good regardless of smoking twice a day.

There’s lips and tongues. One hand slips from his hair to his shoulder and pushes until Lucas’ back is pressed firmly to the adjacent wall. Then there’s a thigh pressing firmly against where Lucas wants him the most.

There’s a break. Heavy breathing. Eliott’s bottom lip drags across his top one.

“How long did we last?”

Lucas thinks over their brief conversation.

“Three minutes?”

“We’re improving.”

More kissing. A bit of humping.

Lucas feels like this is dangerously close to being over before it even properly starts, so he pushes Eliott off.

“Heeyyyy,” he whines.

“Bedroom?”

“Oh, no, yeah, okay.”

Lucas grabs his hand and pulls him down the hall. He’s can see the bed is unmade on one side, and jokingly glares at Eliott.

“Come on,” he says. “I never sleep on the couch.”

Lucas turns and flops down onto the bed. He pulls Eliott with him. The kissing resumes, and it’s a bit frantic now. Part of Lucas would like to slow down, but he thinks back on what Eliott said. He’s in town for a few days. It’s not one of his 24 hour turn arounds. They have time.

At some point, they lose their shirts and pants. They’re down to their underwear, and Lucas is close to losing those as well when Eliott breaks away and pauses Lucas’ eager hands.

Lucas expects him to take over and remove his briefs for himself. Eliott likes a little bit of control, especially when it comes to whether or not Lucas is wearing underwear.

He doesn’t though. He looks at Lucas and waits for him to look back. When their eyes meet, he has a look that could almost pass for insecurity. Lucas opens his mouth, ready to offer to stop, but Eliott speaks first.

“Not a boyfriend?” he asks, voice a quiet whisper.

Lucas feels his own heart beat three times.

“Not a boyfriend.”

Things move quickly after that.

===

They manage to get out of bed before 14h, which is pretty good for them.

“I’ll make breakfast,” Eliott says as they meander into the living room. They’re moving slowly as one unit. Eliott has his arms wrapped tightly around Lucas’ waist as they shuffle along.

“No, no, no,” Lucas laughs.

“Aw, come on,” Eliott drags. He pulls Lucas in tighter until he’s forced to stop walking. “I’ve only caused one fire.”

“Two,” Lucas corrects. He turns so they’re face to face.

Eliott is grinning but carries on the argument.

“One fire, and one flame.”

“A flame is the essence of a fire.”

“Fine. You cook, I’ll watch.”

He slides a hand down until it’s resting on Lucas’ ass.

“As if that wasn’t your plan all along.”

“What can I say? I like to see a master at work.”

“You like to see my ass while I’m facing the stove.”

“I like to watch you do what you love.”

Lucas’ not sure what to say to that. Luckily, he doesn’t have to respond. Eliott smacks a kiss to his cheek and pushes him toward the kitchen.

“Now go,” he says. “I’m starving, and I’ve gone 2 months without your eggs Benedict.”

“I’m sorry the jet-setting life of the rich and famous has been such a let down,” Lucas says. He reaches up and ruffles Eliott’s hair. “My poor little movie star.”

“Ha ha,” Eliott playfully pushes his hand away. “You know it’s not all that glamorous.”

Lucas thinks of a the few times Eliott has called him after a rough day. He remembers a particularly upsetting one after a director made a pass at him on set. In a two hour phone call, Eliott had spanned rage and embarrassment and tears.

Lucas had been close to getting the train to London. Then he remembered that’s not what they do.

Just when you’re in Paris.

“Hey, the bad outweighs the good. Right?” He says with a rub to Eliott’s shoulder.

“Bah,” Eliott says with a shrug and a wry smile. “Most of the time.”

Lucas walks into the kitchen. He can hear Eliott trailing close behind. He goes to grab his pans from where they’re precariously stacked in a lower cabinet. Eliott starts rummaging through the fridge.

“It may take a little while,” Lucas says. “The back two burners are shit.”

“Want me to take a look?”

The thought of Eliott dismantling his oven generates a strong response, “Non!”

“Oof,” Eliott laughs. “Got it.”

“Sorry I just,” Lucas thinks of an excuse, “don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Don’t want me to mess up your shitty oven, more like.”

“Well, ouias,” Lucas concedes. “But I could also not want you to get electrocuted. They’re not mutually exclusive.”

Eliott laughs and he reaches out to pull a little on Lucas’s closest ear.

“Stop,” Lucas laughs. He giggles, really, but that’s too embarrassing to admit.

“Cook for me, Lu,” Eliott drawls as he takes a seat on the adjacent counter top.

“Okay,” Lucas says softly. He turns to the stove.

He cooks, and he feels Eliott’s gaze on him the whole time.

He likes it.

===

Eliott cleans his plate, which he rarely does. Lucas is glad to see it. He’s gotten a little thin, and he’s not sure it’s for a role.

He hands Lucas his phone.

“Take a picture,” he says.

“Of what?”

“Of me.”

“Why?”

“Management stuff. I have to post once a week, or my publicist freaks out.”

“Oh,” Lucas says. He looks at Eliott for a second. Navy t-shirt, hair somewhat tamed by Lucas running his figures through it earlier. Bright, clear eyes. Mischievous tilt to his lips.

He looks good.

Lucas opens up the camera.

“I don’t really have an eye for this,” he says.

“It’ll be fine.”

Lucas snaps the picture and assesses it. It’s a good photo. Eliott has an easy smile. He’s tipping his glass of orange juice in Lucas’ direction.

He flips the phone so Eliott can see the screen.

He squints at the picture, and then squints at Lucas.

“What?”

“It’s good. I like it.”

Maybe he doesn’t know photography, but he does know Eliott. Still, the picture feels a bit too personal. Won’t people wonder whose behind the camera? Will the tilted glass lead to questions about the photographer? Will the smile make them speculate about a boyfriend or girlfriend? How long will it take for some mutual friend to snoop out Lucas’ kitchen and spread a rumor?

Lucas perses his lips, “It’s not exactly model material.”

“What do you mean?” Eliott looks up from where he’s tapping away on his phone, likely getting ready to post.

“You look too pleased to be a brooding artist. Shouldn’t it be a little less… happy? You don’t want people to think someone has you smiling like that in the morning. Isn’t your manager always on you about that? Single is more marketable, no?”

If Eliott has read what Lucas is really worried about, he doesn’t comment on it. Instead he just laughs a little.

“Shall we do a miserable one, then?”

Eliott affects the perfect bored smoulder, and Lucas takes another shot.

===

It takes Eliott a minute to pick a filter and a caption. Lucas closes his eyes, tips his head back, and takes in the sun.

Eventually Eliott grabs his hand and pulls him back into the apartment. They settle on the couch and put the TV on some brightly lit American film.

“So how was California?”

“Fine,” Eliott says simply. “You know I prefer acting to modeling. So, it was a little boring.”

“The proofs you sent were great,” Lucas says. “The, um, other model... she was very pretty.”

“Oh, yeah, totally,” Eliott nods. “We fucked in the dressing rooms before we left.”

Lucas tries not to react, but he feels his eyes widen.

“I’m kidding Lucas,” he says. “You have to know I don’t...”

Eliott trails off.

“Eliott-”

“Anyways, I’d take Paris over LA any day.”

Lucas has never been to LA, but he says, “Me too.”

They’re quiet for a little while, but then Eliott’s phone starts to ring.

He looks at the screen then turns to it Lucas. He reads it Bas.

“Fuck. Ignore it.”

“I can’t, Eliott says rapidly. “He was so upset last time.”

“He got over it!”

“You’re being mean.”

“I’m not! I -”

Eliott answers the call. On speaker.

“Hello?”

“You asshole!”

“Salut, Bas,” Eliott says easily.

“You’re in Paris! Don’t deny it! We recognize the kitchen!”

“We?” Eliott asks.

Lucas sinks down on the couch, hands covering his face.

“The gang!” Bas says. “Here we are at lunch, and Arthur sees your post! I guess that explains why Lucas bailed on us this morning. I knew he wasn’t sick!”

Eliott looks entirely too amused by this whole situation.

“No, no Lucas is fine,” Eliott says, and he pulls Lucas’ hands away from his face. “He’s sorry for bailing. He says you guys should come over.”

“Eliott!” Lucas whisper-shouts.

“Yes!” Basile exclaims. “Yes we are on the way.”

“De ouf! Salut!”

Eliott hangs up, and Lucas shoots up from the couch.

“Why would you do that?” he asks. He starts moving around, quickly rearranging the living room and cleaning evidence from their morning.

“They’re my friends, too, Lucas. Maybe I’ve missed them.”

“Look at us, Eliott! Look at the apartment,” Lucas gestures to the general disarray. “They’re going to know.”

“Lucas,” Eliott says softly. Lucas continues to float about, refolding blankets and changing the TV channel. He’s flipping though the guide looking for something friends would be watching together. Eliott takes his momentary distraction as an opportunity to pull him back onto the couch.

Lucas glares at him, ready to keep going.

“Lucas, they already know.”

“They don’t.”

“They definitely do,” Eliott counters. “We aren’t subtle.”

“We are!”

“I stay with you every time I come to Paris even though I could afford a hotel or an apartment if I wanted. Sometimes I come for a week and only see you. They know.”

“Maybe they suspect,” Lucas concedes. “But they can’t know. When we all hang out, we’ve never given them any reason to think...”

“We’re pretty handsy,” Eliott says.

“We’re French!” Lucas takes a deep breath and realizes how ridiculous this whole conversation has been. “Look, we don’t know they know. Can we just like not make it completely obvious?”

Eliott’s phone pings. He checks it, and scoffs a little.

He hands it over to Lucas.

Bas: Try to be fully dressed when we get there ;)

Lucas looks at the phone, looks at Eliott, looks at the phone.

“So they know.”

They laugh.

===

It takes Basile, Yann, and Arthur less than 20 minutes to show up. They pounce on Eliott as soon as he opens the door.

Lucas hears shouts of “Mec!” and “Ca va?” and other pleasantries going back and forth. Finally, it quiets down a bit, and they find him in the living room.

“Oh, there he is! The traitor trying to keep Eliott all to himself!” Basile accuses.

“Eli is a grown up,” Lucas says. “If he wants you to know he’s here, he can tell you himself.”

“Please,” Arthur says, “we know you hold him hostage here. He sits here on your couch, and he begs. He says ‘Lucas, can I please call the gang? I haven’t seen them in years!’”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m the bad guy here,” Lucas groans. “We all know Eliott is everyone’s favorite. You don’t have to rub it in my face.”

“That’s exactly —”

“Enough,” Yann cuts Basile off with a laugh. “Leave Lucas alone.”

“Fine,” Basile says, then, “We’re not really mad. We know you two prefer to be… alone…”

“How’ve you been, Eliott?” Yann asks, proving again why he’s Lucas best friend.

“Good,” Eliott says. “Better now that I’m back, even if it’s only for a week.”

“A week?” Basile exclaims. “I’ll take this as you RSVP-ing yes to my email!”

“Email?” Lucas and Eliott as simultaneously.

“Ouias,” Basile nods. “My email about Lucas’ birthday party.”

“His surprise birthday party, idiot!” says Arthur. He slaps Basile on the back of the head.

“Shit!” Basile exclaims, big eyes pointed Lucas’ way. “Sorry, Lucas.”

“It’s fine,” Lucas says. He’s reeling a little from realizing he’d forgotten his own birthday. It’s in three days.

“I didn’t get an email,” Eliott says. “Why didn’t you text me?”

“It was an e-vite!” Basile explains. “It could only go through email.”

“Where did you send it?”

“There’s an email on your website. I sent it there.”

“I have a website?”

“Yes!”

“Bas, that was Eliott’s business email,” Lucas groans.

“Oh,” Eliott says. “Yeah my agent checks those. She probably thought you were some crazed fan inviting me to their birthday party.”

“Well, you’re here now, so it worked out either way!”

“So, what exactly is this party?” Lucas asks.

“We’ve already spoiled the surprise, we might as well tell him what we’re doing,” Yann says.

“We’re going to Blue!”

“Where?” Eliott asks the same time Lucas says, “Really?”

Blue is the new Parisian hot spot - a restaurant with a ridiculous 5 month waiting list and no menu. It’s a pretentious gimmick designed to attract instagram-obsessed foodies.

Lucas has been wanting to go for months.

“How did you get a reservation?”

“I have my ways, Lucas. I can be very -”

“He name-dropped Eliott.”

“Yeah, yeah, I did that,” Basile nods. “Sorry, man.”

“Hey, anything for Lucas,” he says. “Would’ve been awkward if I didn’t actually show, though.”

“Please,” Arthur says. “As if you would miss Lulu’s birthday.”

Eliott moves to sit next to Lucas on the couch. He scratches the top of Lucas’ head, “You’ve got me there.”

Yann again, “What’ve the two of you been up to?”

Lucas feels his cheeks heat up. He looks at Eliott, whose just grinning back at the boys.

“Besides that,” Yann says.

“About that,” Lucas says. “Since when did you guys, um, know?”

“Since high school,” Yann says.

“What?” Lucas asks. “I wasn’t even out.”

“Eh,” Arthur says, wiggling his hands in a so-so gesture.

“I wasn’t!”

“You told us one night when you were wasted at Yann’s, but then you didn’t remember the next morning.”

“You knew the whole time? But you acted completely surprised when I came out a year later.”

“Luckily, you were drunk then too, or you would’ve noticed we’re all bad actors aside from Demaury.”

“I want to see the e-vite,” Lucas says to change the subject. He’s feeling a bit embarrassed.

Arthur taps around on his phone and then passes it over.

It’s a nice invite, Lucas supposes. Black and white, a little too fancy. There are a few too many exclamation points for his taste, but that’s classic Bas. He looks up at the recipients and freezes.

[email protected]

“You invited Jean?” Lucas asks. He feels Eliott’s eyes on him, but doesn’t want to acknowledge it.
“Well, yeah,” Basile says. “I thought you two were -”

Arthur hits Basile again, and he freezes. He looks over to Eliott with panic in his eyes.

“Shit,” he says for maybe the tenth time that day. “I didn’t… Eliott hadn’t responded and…”

“It’s fine,” Eliott says. Lucas knows he doesn’t even know who Jean is. He’s never mentioned him to Eliott, but it’s obvious he’s put two and two together. “You guys know Lucas and I aren’t… We’re not, um, exclusive, or whatever.”

“We’re not dating,” Lucas clarifies. Then realizes that’s not very clear at all. “Jean and I aren’t dating. Eliott and I aren’t dating either, but… Anyways it’s fine. Jean should be there.”

Right? Jean should be there. He’d be upset if he was left out.

“I look forward to meeting him,” Eliott says. Lucas watches Arthur raise an eyebrow Eliott’s way.

Lucas sometimes forgets Eliott isn’t just his friend, he’s part of the group. The two of them don’t exist in a vacuum, as much as he sometimes wishes they did. They have lives that occur outside of what they do when they’re together. Eliott has his work, his fame, and the mystery men and women photographed with him as he leaves star-studded clubs.

Lucas has the restaurant and Jean.

They both have the boys, but Lucas always assumed time had made them more his friend’s than Eliott’s. He’s wondering if he’s been wrong. Does Eliott check in with the other boys like he does with Lucas? Are they able to ask the questions Lucas can never bring himself to ask? Who is that girl? Are you planning on moving there permanently? So are you seeing that guy or…?

And as a result, do they know more about Eliott than Lucas?

The thought is almost unbearable. Lucas’ mouth feels dry. His hands feel sweaty. He suddenly feels very embarassed. How long has he been kidding himself, thinking he and Eliott have some special connection. He thought the sex was a result of their bond, a consequence of feeling inexplicably linked. Now, he’s wondering if it’s just a physical connection to Eliott.

“Lucas?”

Lucas’ eyes dart up from where he was apparently staring intently at the coffee table.

“Sorry?”

“Okay, you’re thoughts are obviously elsewhere,” Basile says with a laugh. He’s assuming Lucas is thinking of sex, but it’s the furthest thing from his mind.

“Maybe we should head out,” Yann says. “Give you two some alone time.”

Alone time. It’s usually a remark that would be accompanied by a teasing tone or a knowing smirk. Yann does neither, and Lucas knows he’s got a better idea of his state of mind.

“Yeah,” Arthur says. “We’ll head out. Have fun you two.”

Eliott stands as the boys leave, offers hugs and handshakes. They exchange see-you-laters. Then, they’re alone again.

Eliott looks to Lucas. He’s spread himself out to completely lie on the couch. He’s staring at the ceiling debating if he should say what’s on his mind, or shove it under the rug. Neither are particularly appealing.

Eliott makes the decision for him, or at least delays it. He takes one look at Lucas, and then darts into the bedroom.

He reappears with a sweatshirt and a thick stack of papers. A script.

“Here,” he hands Lucas the sweatshirt. Lucas recognizes it as his own - a favorite from high school. Light grey, Romance scribed across the front. He gave it to Eliott when he moved to LA, and he’s never asked for it back.

“Are you finally returning it?” Lucas asks as he slides it on. “You know this is my favorite sweatshirt. Giving it to you was a big sacrifice on my part.”

“Well, you’re going to continue suffering. It’s mine. I’m keeping it. You’re just borrowing it.”

He drops the script onto Lucas’ lap.

“Don’t you sign NDAs for this stuff?” Lucas asks, but he opens the script anyway - sees the lines for Felix are highlighted.

There are a lot of highlights, and the lines are in English.

“A lead role?” Lucas asks.

“Ouais,” Eliott nods. “In an American TV show.”

“That’s huge,” Lucas says quietly. He thumbs through the script, but he isn’t gathering any useful information. He feels as if he’s on autopilot.

“It could be,” Eliott corrects. “I’ve only read for it. It’s not set in stone.”

“You’ll get it,” Lucas says assuredly. Eliott is a bit of a Hollywood darling, even if he’s only done side kick roles thus far.

Lucas looks at him, scans him from top to bottom. He tries to see him how the world does, without all of the attachments of their years of friendship and other things… He’s objectively handsome, almost embarrassingly so. He’s tall, with an enticing accent for American audiences. He’s affable, sincere, funny. Lucas knows it comes across in interviews. He’s kind, and he’s honest to a fault.

He’s Lucas’ best friend. In another universe where Eliott isn’t Eliott Demaury, where Lucas has more to offer than a fledging career as a sous chef and an apartment with a broken stove, maybe he’s the love of his life.

It’s the first time he’s allowed himself to think it, and it’s excruciating. He looks at this guy, his guy - long fingers, knobby knees, insecure grin. He’s looking at Lucas curiously, as if he doesn’t know he holds Lucas’ entire universe inside him.

“What?” Eliott finally asks with a little laugh to break the tension. “Why are you staring at me?”

“Does this film in America?” Lucas asks in avoidance.

“Yes,” Eliott says. He frowns a little. “New York, though. The flight isn’t as long.”

“So you’d move.”

“It doesn’t film all year round,” Eliott says, an avoidance of his own. “Just, like, nine months of the year.”

“And then you’d do press the other three,” Lucas finishes. “American press.”

“Maybe. Who knows? I may not get it.”

“But you want it.”

“I do.”

“Okay.”

But Eliott is Eliott, and he knows it’s not okay. He plops down on the couch, and he slings an arm around Lucas’ shoulders. Their faces are close together. Eliott has some scruff from forgetting to pack his razor. Lucas wants to put his mouth on it like he did this morning. Like he did last night…

“Look,” Eliott sighs before Lucas gets the chance. “This is just a possibility. I like the role. I like the idea of being in New York instead of Los Angeles. I like knowing it would only take seven hours to get to Paris.”

“Seven hours is a long fucking time.”

“It’s five hours shorter than the flight from LA.”

Lucas grabs Eliott’s hand, squeezes it.

“I miss you when you’re gone,” he says softly. It’s more of a confession than he usually allows.

Eliott squeezes back.

“You’re my best friend, Lucas.”

Right.

= = =

There’s light pouring into the bedroom, and Lucas knows he forgot to draw the curtains last night.

He feels Eliott turn over, a big hand slaps his stomach, and he remembers why.

Eliott’s hand rubs back and forth, and Lucas thinks of how it almost covers the width of his waist. He’s got big hands, big feet too. He takes up most of the bed - he takes up most of any room. That’s Eliott. Big limbs, big gestures, big grin, big dreams. That’s the reality Lucas would be up against if he ever told the truth. Eliott’s clothes can’t fit in his closet. His shoes won’t fit by the door. His dreams won’t fit in Paris. So, what’s the use in trying?

“What time is it?” Eliott asks, or at least that’s probably what he meant. He barely managed an intelligible word.

Lucas leans over as far as Eliott’s hold will let him to tap his phone screen.

“Only 9h.”

Eliott pulls him back in.

“Don’t go to work,” he says. “Stay with me.”

Lucas’ heart squeezes. Stay with me - a phrase he’s said to the Eliott in his head a million times.

“I called in,” Lucas says.

“Really?”

Eliott sounds undeniably pleased by this fact.

“Yeah,” Lucas says, trying to sound casual, like it wasn’t a big deal he called in all of his vacation at a moment’s notice. “For the whole week.”

Eliott, well, he squeals a little. And so much for playing it cool because Lucas can’t stop himself from flipping around to see his smile.

It’s classic Eliott, lips curved up and eyes nearly closed.

“Don’t be too pleased. You’ll be sick of me by Friday.”

Eliott reaches up, brushes the hair back from where it’s fallen near Lucas’ eyes.

“Never.”

= = =

They make it to midday on Monday without being interrupted, but there’s a knock on the door right as they settle in to a game of chess.

“Putain!” Eliott groans. “We’re always interrupted when I’m going to win!”

“You weren’t going to win,” Lucas laughs as he walks toward the door. “You never win.”

“Yeah because you’re always cheating!”

“I don’t cheat!” Lucas laughs right as he opens the door.

“Salut.”

It’s Jean.

“Salut?” It comes out as a question.

“I went by the restaurant,” Jean says. Lucas notices his attempt to look past Lucas into the apartment. “They said you called in. I was worried you might be sick.”

“I’m fine,” Lucas says, but his rushed answer seems to offer the opposite of reassurance.

“You sure? You’re not usually in your pajamas midday. Haven’t you typically run a marathon by now?”

Lucas laughs a little, “It’s ten miles a day. We’ve been over this.”

“Right,” Jean smiles. “Well, I just wanted to come by and make sure I didn’t give you food poinsoning or something.”
“Hey, I told you the dinner was good. I wouldn’t lie.”

“You definitely would.”

“Okay, I would. I’m not, though. I’m fine. I just wanted to take a few days off. I’m a little burnt out, or whatever.”

“Lucas!”

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Who’s that?” Jean asks. He keeps his tone light, but Lucas can tell he’s a little shocked.

“Nobody.”

“Come on, we weren’t done!”

Jean’s eyebrows begin to raise.

“I’ve clearly interrupted something,” he says. Even though they’ve never made any promises to each other, Lucas feels inexplicably embarrassed. He feels a bit caught out.

“It’s not… He’s just…”

In a weird way, the truth is the only way out of this one.

“It’s Eliott,” Lucas says.

“Eliott?”

Lucas raises an eyebrow, “My friend from high school.”

“I don’t…” Jean trails off, and then his eyes double in size. “Are you serious?”

“Yes,” Lucas says. “He’s in staying with me while he’s in town. I couldn’t tell you about it because he likes to lay low whenever he’s in Paris.”

“Can I meet him?” Jean asks, cool facade abandoned.

Lucas wants to say no. He wants to keep Eliott and the life he has when he’s not around completely separate from one another. What choice does he have, really? Denying him will only make Eliott and him look like douchebags. Eliott doesn’t deserve some guy walking around Paris talking about the time Eliott Demaury couldn’t deign to meet him.

“Yeah, okay,” Lucas says. “Just, um, be normal. He’s just a normal guy.”

“Sure! Yes. Of course.”

Lucas opens the door the rest of the way and lets Jean follow him inside.

“Finally,” Eliott says at the sound of footsteps. He’s staring at the chessboard diligently. “I figured out how I’m going to win while you were gone, so don’t -”

He cuts off when he looks up.

“Bonjour,” he says toward Jean, and it’s a little wary.

“Salut!” Jean says with too much enthusiasm. “I’m a big fan! Lucas mentioned he knew you from school, but I didn’t realize you were actually friends! Or, like, friends who have stayed in touch.”

Eliott rolls his shoulders back, and Lucas watches him reset. He goes from Eliott, playfully slumped over a chessboard, to Eliott Demaury, posed for a meet and greet.

“Eliott,” he says, graciously. He even holds his hand out to Jean for a shake.

“Jean.”

There’s a beat of silence. Eliott looks between Jean and Lucas, blinks, resets again.

“Of course,” Eliott says. He’s got an easy smile that doesn’t crinkle his eyes. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Are you in town for work?” Jean asks. He also slides his arm around Lucas’ shoulders. Lucas’ cheeks are getting hot and not in a good way. He wants to push Jean’s arm away, but he knows it’ll cause more trouble than it’s worth. It’ll hint he and Eliott are more than friends. He can’t do that to Eliott.

Eliott’s eyes flick to the hand on Lucas’ shoulder.

“Pleasure,” he says.

“Oh,” Jean says. “If I had a few days off, I think I would stay in California. The weather, the beaches…”

“Gets boring after a while,” Eliott shrugs. “It’s nice to be home, see the rain.”

“Right,” Jean says, even though it’s clear he doesn’t agree.

“Besides,” Eliott says, “Couldn’t miss Lucas’ birthday. I’d be a shitty best friend.”

Jean squeezes Lucas’ shoulder, “I can’t believe you’ve never told me Eliott fucking Demaury is your best friend.”

“Well, you know Lucas,” Eliott says wryly. “He loves a good secret.”

Even though there’s no way Jean has picked up on the double speak here, Lucas is overcome with inexplicable embarrassment.

He’s not sure how to fill the bit of awkward silence between the three of them. Thankfully, Jean’s phone rings.

He takes his arm out from around Lucas to pull it from his pocket, and Lucas’ relief is instant.

It seems to calm Eliott a bit too, his shoulders relax a bit.

“It’s the office,” Jean says, “I should head back. It’s been a long lunch.”

“Okay,” Lucas says. Then, the inevitable happens. Jean gives him a quick kiss on the lips as he heads toward the door.

“It was nice to meet you, Eliott,” he says right before he leaves. “I’ll text you, Lucas.”

Neither Lucas nor Eliott say anything. They’re too busy staring at each other.

“What the fuck was that?” Lucas asks.

“What?” Eliott asks innocently, but he also won’t meet Lucas’ gaze.

“That shit about me liking secrets.”

“It was nothing,” Eliott says. He sits back down at the coffee table. “Forget it.”

“Eliott.”

“Lucas, drop it.”

Eliott moves a rook. Lucas moves a pawn. They don’t talk about it.

= = =

After their chess game, Eliott wandered out to the balcony to take some business calls. Lucas is left to his own devices in the kitchen. There’s a zen he only experiences when cooking, and he feels it coming on as washes the carrots.

Carrots are Eliott’s favorite vegetable. He love them roasted, with fresh orange squeezed on top. So, that’s what Lucas is making to accompany the pork roast. He remembers the first time he made this meal for Eliott. They’d been in high school, and Eliott had been the new boy in their year. He’d fallen into the gang with ease, as if he’d always been a part of it.

As he peels the carrots, Lucas lets his mind wander to the first time he saw Eliott. He’d been walking to class with Basile, and he’d spotted him from the other side of the hall. First it was the height, then it was the hair, and then it was the face. He’d met Lucas’ gaze fearlessly with a friendly smile.

It wasn’t his Big Gay Revelation, but it was his Big Gay Confirmation. It was the first time he looked at a boy in real life and imagined a date, a kiss, a life together.

Eliott had followed them into the classroom and sat at their table. It moved quickly from there. Lucas tried to play it cool, but Basile latches onto to things, people, everything quickly. So, Eliott had no choice but to be their new best friend. After a few weeks of seeing Lucas ace their math tests, Eliott had asked if he could come over for help with the homework. They’d worked on math for maybe ten minutes before shoving the books aside for non-calculus conversations. Eliott shared the reason why he’d moved schools, and why he was two years behind where he should’ve been. Lucas listened and empathized with his experiences with his mother’s mental health.

In one night, they knew each other inside and out. Eliott whispered dreams about making movies, and Lucas confessed to wanting his own restaurant.

You cook?

Yes… or I try to.

Cook for me.

Now?

Yes now!

And just like tonight, he was chopping carrots when he looked up and met Eliott’s eyes.

Carrots are my favorite. My ex boyfriend tried to make them for me once. Nearly burnt down the house.

Boyfriend?

That a problem?

No. I’m… I think… I like guys, too.

And that was that. Eliott kept his secret. No questions. No judgement. Best friends.

“You’re making my favorite,” Eliott says from the doorway. It pulls Lucas from his memories. He’s back in the present moment. The circumstances are so similar, it’s almost as if no time has passed. He remembers the nervous twinge in his gut that night, the ache of a crush. He still feels it now, looking at this Eliott.

“It’s my favorite too, so don’t feel too special.”

It’s a lie. Eliott is always special.

“Lucas,” Eliott pauses, “about earlier…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Lucas says. “It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t - just, don’t worry about it.”

“It matters,” Eliott says. “I was an ass to your… friend…”

“I’ll just tell him you were jet-lagged, or maybe I won’t say anything. Let him think you’re some tourtured artist.”

Eliott laughs, “Yeah, okay.”

“Good calls?” Lucas asks, nodding to where Eliott is clutching his phone in his hand.

“Yeah,” Eliott says. “Really good, actually.”

“Meaning?”

“I got the show.”

“The American one?”

“Ouias.”

It hurts a bit to know Eliott will be setting up a permanent home in New York - that he’s committing to years residing thousands of miles away. But, Lucas’ immediate disappointment is quelled by Eliott’s obvious excitement. He’s glowing, and he’s proud. He’s too humble to brag on himself, so it falls to Lucas.

He sets down the knife, and does what he has to do. He rushes at Eliott and wraps him in a hug.

“I’m so proud of you,” he says. It’s true. Two things can be true at once. He can desperately want Eliott to stay, while understanding the incredible circumstances causing him to leave.

“Thank you,” Eliott says. He kisses the top of Lucas’ head. He always does that, a consequence of the height difference.

“International sensation Eliott Demaury!” Lucas pushes him away playfully. “I’m suddenly nervous to be in your presence.”

“Stop,” Eliott groans. “I hate when you do that.”

“Do what? Worship you? Fawn over you?”

“Oh no,” Eliott whispers. He slides his hands around Lucas hips, draws him back in. “I love when you do that.”

“Then what?” Lucas already up on his toes, waiting for the right moment to press their lips together.

“Talk about me like I’m someone you don’t know,” Eliott says. “‘Eliott Demaury’ - you know me better than anyone.”

That’s it. That’s the moment. So, Lucas kisses him. Dinner can wait.

= = =

Later, after they’ve finished dinner and settled back in bed. Eliott grabs Lucas’ hand, interlaces their fingers.

“Are you going to date Jean?” he says quietly. His eyes are focused on their hands.

“I think I already am,” Lucas laughs.

“No. I mean is he going to be your boyfriend?”

If this question had come a week earlier, if it had been asked by anyone else, Lucas thinks the answer would’ve been yes or at least probably. Jean is handsome. He’s tall. He’s sweet, Lucas thinks. He drops by the restaurant to say hello, and he’s never mad about the long hours. He lets Lucas be grumpy in the mornings. He’s employed, which is more than Lucas can say for a lot of his previous flings.

He’s funny, too. He gets along with the gang, and he can hold a good conversation.

He lives in Paris.

But hearing this question now, in his bed, coming from Eliott, it’s hard to say.

“I don’t know,” he says instead. “Maybe.”

“Hmmm.”

Lucas flips around, so he’s half-lying on Eliott. Their chests are pressed together, and he can make eye contact.

“What?” he asks playfully. “Did you not like him?”

“He was fine,” Eliott says. It’s noncommittal. The way you talk about an annoying coworker.

It makes sense that Lucas would end up with someone Eliott would describe as fine. After all, Eliott has spent the last few years parading around LA, meeting glamours people with unattainable faces and outrageous lifestyles. He feels defensive of Jean. He wants Eliott to know he’s doing better than fine when he’s not around.

“He’s nice,” Lucas insists. “Funny, too. He has, like, this important consulting job, but he doesn’t take himself too seriously. I took him to that play we talked about seeing the last time you were in town. That one with the weird poster… He laughed his ass off.”

Eliott is quiet.

Lucas can’t stop, “And you saw him. Hot, right?”

“Mhmm.”

Eliott sits up.

“What are you doing?”

Eliott slips out from under him and sits on the edge of the bed.

“Just remembered something,” he says. “I need to run it buy my agent.”

He grabs his phone and gets out of bed completely.

“It’s 22hr.”

“It’s 13h in California. He’ll answer.”

“Okay,” Lucas says, he falls back dramatically. “Don’t wake me up when you come back in.”

Eliott purses his lips a little, “I won’t.”

= = =

Eliott’s true to his word. He doesn’t wake Lucas up that night, mostly because he doesn’t come back to bed at all.

Lucas finds him out on the couch the next morning, curled up to fit his long legs between the arm rests.

“Hey,” Lucas says, and he gives Eliott a not-so-kind nudge.

“Merde,” Eliott groans. He rubs his eyes aggressively with his palms.

“You slept out here?” Lucas asks, although it’s obvious that’s the case.

“Yeah,” Eliott nods. “Yeah, I guess I fell asleep looking over work stuff.”

“Go take a shower,” Lucas pulls Eliott off the couch with a groan. “The guys want to meet up for coffee.”

“I can’t,” Eliott says, but he’s moving toward the shower anyway. “I’ve got to go see my parents.”

“Oh,” Lucas nods. “Yeah. Okay. Let’s do that.”

“I haven’t seen them in person for nearly a year,” Eliott says. He’s avoiding eye contact, too. “I think I should go alone. You’d be bored. I’ll just be recapping a bunch of stuff you already know.”

Lucas wants to protest. He likes the Demaury’s. They’d become like a second family to him when all the shit went down with his parents’ divorce. Now he only sees them when Eliott’s in town, and even then it’s only every other time. But the combination of Eliott sleeping on the couch, work story aside, and refusing to look at him now holds him back.

“Okay. I’ll see you later, then.”

“I think I’ll stay there tonight,” Eliott adds. Lucas’ heart sinks. Something has gone wrong here.

“Was everything okay?” Lucas asks. “With your work stuff last night? Do you want to -”

“Work’s fine, Lucas,” Eliott says with a little scoff. “Great, even. I just want to spend some time with my parents.”

“Alright,” Lucas says. He tries not to sound as hurt as he feels. He knows better than to press Eliott when he seems so unwilling to share.

“I’ll be back in time for the party.”

It’s said so… carelessly. It’s condescending almost, like he’s doing Lucas a favor.

“Yeah, whatever,” Lucas says. “Don’t hurry back for me.”

He turns down the hall to grab his keys and get the fuck out of here.

“Lucas,” Eliott says, but it’s followed by silence.

“Have a good trip,” Lucas says as he flings the front door open.

It takes everything in him not to slam it shut behind him.

= = =

He kind of stomps his way to the cafe, and he spots the guys sitting at a table near the back corner. They usually sit outside. He realizes they’ve gone for a more private option for Eliott’s sake.

He plops down in the seat next to Yann.

“Eliott doing the ordering?” he asks. Lucas watches him scan the line at the counter.

“He’s not coming,” Lucas says.

“Why?” Basile whines.

“Went to see his parents,” Lucas shrugs.

“You stayed here?” Arthur asks.

“Wasn’t invited,” Lucas says. He watches the boys exchange looks around the table.

Arthur speaks first, “That’s unusual.”

“Yep.”

“Did you two have a fight?”

“Nope.”

He doesn’t want to talk about it, but that doesn’t fly in this friend group.

“Do you want to talk about it, or are we going to pretend it isn’t happening like we do with all of the other Eliott stuff?” Arthur asks.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means, two of our best friends are sleeping together, but we never acknowledge it.”

“Arthur,” Yann warns.

“No,” Arthur says. “We need to talk about this. Look at what you’re doing to Basile!”

Basile just listlessly stirs his coffee.

“This has nothing to do with Basile!” Lucas defends.

“Hey!” Basile says. “We’re friends - more than that, we’re family! We’re the gang. We’re supposed to tell each other everything.”

“Somethings are none of your business,” Lucas corrects. “You’re my best friends, but I can keep some things to myself. Some things are private.”

“Some things are private,” Yann concedes. “But lately everything with you is private.”

It hurts in the way only the truth can.

“When was the last time you told us anything about your life that didn’t have to do with work?”

“That’s ridiculous,” Lucas gripes. “I talk about Jean. I brought him to movie night two weeks ago!”

“Fine,” Arthur shrugs. “Sometimes you talk about things that don’t matter. It’s like high school Lucas all over again. Us telling you everything, and you giving us drunken confessions you can’t even remember.”

Lucas’ heart is pounding in his ears. He wants to leave, but that would only prove Arthur right. He taps his fingers on the table in quick succession.

“Fine. What do you want to know?”

“That’s not -”

“Seriously,” Lucas challenges. “Ask away.”

“Why won’t you and Eliott just date?” Basile bursts. He immediately goes back to stirring his coffee, as if trying to avoid the answer to his own question.

“Eliott doesn’t…” Lucas can’t finish that sentence. He knows Eliott isn’t interested in him like that, but he can’t bring himself to say it. Instead, “It would never work. He’s here what? Twice a year? That wouldn’t be a relationship. What we have now works.”

“Really? This is what works for you?” Arthur asks.

“Yes,” Lucas insists.

“Then why don’t you ever talk about it?” Yann asks. “If it’s all fine and good.”

Lucas picks at a hang nail. He wishes he’d ordered a drink. He could take a sip as an excuse to gather his thoughts.

“Lucas,” Arthur says. It’s much gentler than his previous comments. “We’re not trying to gang up on you. We’re just trying to be here for you. You’re obviously going through something.”

“What do you want me to say?” Lucas asks, weakly. “That I’ve had a crush on Eliott since we were teenagers? That I go along with this friends with benefits thing because it’s the only conceivable way to be with him? That I’ve never talked about it because I’m embarrassed to want someone who is so far out of my league?”

“That’s not true,” Basile says strongly. “You are in anyone’s league, Lucas.”

“I’m not,” Lucas shrugs. “The truth is, when Eliott leaves, I go to work, and I go home, and I try to find someone who will make me forget about him. No one measures up. Meanwhile, Eliott goes to parties and hooks up with models and has one night stands write fucking albums about him.”

“Those were just rumors,” Basile interjects. “Have you ever talked about any of this with Eliott? I think he would -”

“I’m not going to say anything to him that could ruin our friendship,” Lucas says. “I promise I’m fine. I’m a big boy. I can handle this.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” Yann says. “You say no one measures up, but you’re not giving anyone a chance. You can’t build something with someone else if you’re hung up on this thing with Eliott. If you really think Eliott doesn’t want to be with you for real, you need to end it now.”

“I know,” Lucas sighs. “I just don’t think I can give him up.”

“You won’t be giving him up,” Arthur says. “You’ll be saving your friendship with him before this goes too far. If you keep doing this until he ends it, do you really think you’ll still be able to be friends?”

“You’re right,” Lucas concedes. “You’re completely right.”

Arthur and Yann pat him on the back in support, but Basile is suspiciously quiet.

“Bas?” Lucas raises an eyebrow his way.

“It’s nothing.”

“After I just spilled my heart, bro? Just say it.”

“I think you should tell Eliott how you feel.”

“Bas,” Arthur groans.

“What? Lucas, he may feel the same way. You can’t know if you don’t ask. Look at me and Daphne!”

Lucas buries his head in his hands and groans. He feels Yann’s hand on his shoulder.

“Do what you think is best, Lucas. It’s your choice, but you can’t go on the way things are.”

= = =

He hangs around the apartment the following day, hoping Eliott will return before the birthday dinner. He doesn’t though, and about thirty minutes before Lucas needs to leave he gets a text.

Eliott: Trains are running behind. Meet you at the restaurant.

Lucas is tempted to leave him on read, but he stops himself. It’s not Eliott’s fault Lucas feels this way. He brought this on himself. He’s let this go on for too long, and now he’s jeopardized everything. So, he replies.

Lucas: Okay. Safe travels.

Lucas gets dressed, settling on a white button up and black dress pants. He looks nice, he thinks as he checks the mirror. He should dress up more often, maybe. His phone pings, but it’s just an alert from his Uber driver. He’s downstairs, so Lucas grabs his keys and heads out.

He closes his eyes in the back of the car. He’s filled with equal parts dread and excitement knowing he’ll see Eliott in a few minutes. Will he still be in a funk? Did he have a good time with his parents? Did they ask about me?

Before he knows it, they’re at the restaurant. There’s a crowd outside, but he can see where his friends are crowded together just inside the glass front door. He opens it, and he’s immediately swallowed up in a group hug. ‘Happy birthday’ comes from all around, and Lucas feels better than he’s felt since Eliott left.

“Merci, merci,” he laughs as the guys sway him back and forth before letting him go.

“Go check us in, Bas,” Yann says.

“You didn’t have to wait,” Lucas says.

“Can’t start the birthday without the birthday boy!” Arthur says, and he ruffles Lucas’ hair.

Lucas’ embarrassed to feel a familiar sting of tears in his eyes. It’s stupid because of course the guys care about his birthday, but it feels so good to be important - even for just one night.

And that’s the whole problem isn’t it? He’s willing to trade a lifetime with someone for a few good nights with Eliott. All because he knows Eliott will make him feel special, while he can’t be sure a stranger can do the same. The boys are right, he never gives anyone else a chance.

Basile walks up to the maitre d’.

“We have reservations for, um, Demaury.”

She looks at Bas and the group, and then looks at her notebook.

“Eliott Demary?” she asks skeptically.

“Ouis,” Bas says confidently.

She smiles, polite but firm, “We can’t check you in without the head of the party present.”

“He’s on his way,” Basile says. “Right, Lucas?”

Lucas checks his phone, even though he knows it hasn’t buzzed.

“Yeah,” he says. “He should be here soon.”

“I’m sorry,” the maitre d’ says, though she doesn’t sound very sorry at all. She sounds like she thins she’s caught them in a lie. “You’ll have to wait until he arrives.”

Right. They’re nothing without Eliott.

The door opens behind them, and Lucas whips around. It’s not Eliott, though. It’s Jean.

“Salut!” he says. He kisses both of Lucas’ cheeks. “Happy Birthday, Lu! Sorry I’m a little late. Wrapping this was a total nightmare. Definitely not my strong suit.”

He holds up a poorly wrapped box with a sheepish grin. It’s endearing, really. Lucas is a little thrilled he got him a gift.

“It’s fine,” he says. He kisses Jean’s cheek for good measure. “We can’t be seated until Eliott’s here anyway, so…”

“That’s ridiculous,” Jean says, loud enough for the maitre d’ to hear.

“It’s the restaurant policy,” she says. “We also can’t hold the table for more than ten minutes past the reservation. Hopefully he’ll be here soon!”

She turns back to her book, and Lucas checks the time. It’s eight minutes past 20h. Two minutes until they get the boot.

Jean joins their circle, and the all make idle chit chat. All are pointedly not checking their phones or the door. If they did, they would have to acknowledge it’s 15 past, which means Lucas’ birthday ‘surprise’ is ruined and alternate plans need to be made.

When he can’t really take it anymore, Lucas looks over to the maitre d’. They lock eyes, and she raises an eyebrow. She clearly thinks she’s sniffed them out. She just knows they made these reservations under false pretenses. She holds his gaze and opens her mouth, surely to politely kick them out.

Of course, that’s when Eliott walks in.

“Salut,” he says to the group. “I’m so sorry I’m late. The trains…”

He trails off as the group just stares at him with no greeting.

“Everything okay?” he asks. His eyes are trained on Lucas.

Arthur looks at his phone, and then looks at Eliott.

“We’re fifteen minutes late, so we missed the table.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Eliott says, and again they’ve attracted the maitre d’s attention. Lucas watches her look at Eliott. He watches her entire demeanor change. Her smile is big and friendly now. Her words playful.

“Of course we can make an exception, just this once,” she says with a sly smile just for Eliott. “Follow me.”

“Unbelievable,” Yann mutters, and Lucas hums in agreement. He goes to follow her, but Eliott grabs his wrist and holds until they’re trailing behind the rest of the group.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” he says again. “It really was the train.”

“I believe you,” Lucas says, and he does. He knows Eliott would never purposefully miss his birthday dinner.

“My mom wrapped your gift,” Eliott says. He wiggles his eyebrows like he’s letting Lucas in on a secret.

“Couldn’t manage it yourself?” Lucas asks, keeping his voice light. He looks ahead to wear Jean is carrying his own gift.

“I’m shit at that stuff,” Eliott laughs. “She saw me trying and said I couldn’t give you something that looked like it’d be run over by the train.”

Lucas laughs a little, “Well, I would’ve liked it either way.”

As they near the table, Eliott grabs Lucas’ shoulder. Stops them just short of sitting down, and just out of earshot of the rest of the group.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “For how I left yesterday.”

“It’s fine. I’m glad you got to see your parents,” Lucas says.

Eliott smiles, but it looks a little sad. He pats Lucas’ shoulder, looks him up and down.

“You look good, Lu.”

Eliott’s in casual wear, but it’s all black. He’s famous, so he can get away with a denim jacket in a fancy restaurant.

“Not as good as you,” Lucas admits.

Eliott shakes his head, as if Lucas has said something ridiculous. He kisses Lucas’ temple quickly, and then gives him a gentle push toward the table. The guys and Jean have arranged themselves so that Lucas can sit in the middle. He’s in-between Jean and Yann. Eliott is on the end, facing Lucas and next to Basile.

Dinner is amicable. More than that, even. It’s actually a lot of fun. Eliott seems to have flipped the switch on the Jean situation. He laughs harder than any of them when Jean takes them through the story of interviewing an intern who may or may not have shit himself during their walkthrough of his CV.

They’re at a break between dinner and dessert, when Jean pulls his gift out from under the table.

“Is it tacky to do this here?” he asks.

“Open it!” Basile says, before Lucas can answer. “I love presents.”

Lucas rolls his eyes, but takes the gift. It’s heavy, suspiciously so. He pulls the paper away.

“Your wrapping really is shit,” he says to Jean. The whole table laughs. He gets enough off to see it’s a pan. A very expensive non-stick pan. Lucas recognizes it because…

“To make up for the one I put in the dishwasher,” Jean says.

“Thank you!”

“I’ll hand wash this one,” Jean promises, hand on heart and everything. “I’ve learned my lesson. I’m sure there’s a million more things you can teach me in the kitchen, but this is a good start, right?”

Lucas’ ears are ringing a bit. Jean is hinting at a future. Right in front of Eliott.

“Sure,” Lucas manages. He slide the pan back under the table. “Merci.”

Jean squeezes his shoulder, “You’re welcome.”

Yann raises his hands in front of himself, palms toward Lucas, “I didn’t bring your gift.”

“Bas and I went in on a gift together,” Arthur says, “But it’s still in the mail. Someone forgot to pay for expedited shipping.”

“Sorry,” Basile groans. “I’ll pay for your dinner!”

“Dinner’s on me,” Eliott says. “For everyone.”

“That’s unnecessary,” Jean says. He sounds a little perturbed.

“Yeah, mec, we’ll split it! Outside of Lucas, of course.”

Lucas grins, “It’s my birthday, and I say Eliott pays! It’s his penance for being late.”

Eliott grins, “It’s only fair.”

“Now give me my gift,” Lucas says, and he makes grabby hands across the table.

Eliott places it in his hands.

“Nice wrapping, bro,” Basile says. “Look at that bow! Is there anything you can’t do?”

Lucas sees Jean straighten up in his seat from the corner of his eye. Is he threatened by Eliott’s wrapping paper? Had he caught on to their arrangement when he stopped by the apartment?

“That’s courtesy of Mama Demaury,” Lucas says as he takes the gift.

“Your mom wraps presents for you?” Jean asks. It’s a tone Jean has never taken with Lucas. It’s a little… rude…

“My mom loves Lucas,” Eliott says, as if it’s a correction. “Couldn’t stand the thought of him having a less-than-perfectly wrapped gift.”

Jean doesn’t say anything to that.

Eliott’s gift is light, and it’s shaped like a shirt box.

Lucas shakes it jokingly, “Are you just re-gifting something from a photoshoot?”

“I hope you got it tailored,” Arthur laughs. “Our little Lucas might drown.”

“Shut up,” Lucas laughs. He pulls at the paper carefully, and slides the box out.

He opens it up, and the gift is instantly familiar. For a second, he wonders if Eliott found another one. If he hunted it down online, but the more he looks the more obvious it is this is his sweatshirt. It’s obviously worn, and there’s a tiny stain from the bolognese Lucas cooked the last time Eliott was in town.

Lucas feels a bundle of emotions settle in his throat. His face feels warm, his nose in particular. His eyes burn, and he blinks quickly to push back on the urge to cry. His hands are shaking a little as he rubs his thumb over Romance.

“You’re giving it back?” he just barely manages. He’s watches his thumb move over the fabric. He can’t look at Eliott, or this is all going to go to shit.

“Ah, ouias,” Eliott says. It’s falsely confident. Lucas can tell he thought he was doing something right, but has now realized it might be poorly received.

Lucas breathes in. Let’s it out. He feels a strange calm settle over him. This is what he needed, he reminds himself. I needed this to be over.

“Merci,” he says, and it’s passable. He manages a brief look and smile Eliott’s way.

“That’s not -”

“I need to run to the restroom,” Lucas says. “Too much wine.”

The whole table is watching him skeptically. It feels like the whole restaurant is doing the same.

“I’ll be right back,” Lucas says, uselessly. He flees towards the back of the restaurant, unsure if he’s even headed in the right direction. He finds the restrooms after a friendly waiter points him wordlessly in the right direction. It’s unfortunately not a one-seater, but it is empty. Lucas looks at himself in the mirror, his nose is red. A tell-tale sign he’s close to crying. He sniffs deeply. He takes a few deep breaths. Then, he lets a few tears fall.

He’s being ridiculous, crying at his party over a stupid sweatshirt.

Only, it’s not just a sweatshirt. It’s the piece of him Eliott takes everywhere. Lucas has flattered himself with thinking Eliott would never want to part with it. That’s why he always jokes about him giving it back, so he can hear Eliott explain he can’t. He thinks of all the times Eliott has been photographed in this sweatshirt at LAX when returns from Paris, all the times he’s had it in his hands when leaving the gym, the snap chats of Eliott lying in bed wearing it before falling asleep.

Those pictures, those moments where Lucas can pretend he’s a part of Eliott’s American life are over. They’ll be traded out for photos of Eliott in expensive athleisure gifted by brands who have no idea Lucas exists. His stylist will be relieved, and Lucas will be crushed.

He wipes his eyes and checks the mirror again. It’s obvious what he’s been doing. He splashes some water on his face, and he looks a bit better. If he waits it out a few more minutes, he’ll likely be passable. He paces a bit, washes his hands for good measure. Then, he decides to go back out. He doesn’t want everyone to know he was crying, but he also doesn’t want them thinking he’s taking a shit.

He opens the door, and nearly knocks Eliott into the adjacent wall.

“Putain! Sorry!”

“I’m fine,” Eliott says, but he rubs the shoulder Lucas nearly took out with the door. “Bad timing.”

“Really bad timing,” Lucas says. He looks at Eliott, and he looks almost as upset as Lucas feels.

“I fucked up, right?” Eliott asks. He lets Lucas step forward and close the bathroom door. They stay in the hall outside. A women walks past them to go to the ladies’ room. She doesn’t seem to recognize Eliott, thankfully. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I’m not upset,” Lucas tries to deny. Eliott just pouts a little, and Lucas knows the only way out of this hallway is the truth. “I’m a little upset.”

“I’m so sorry,” Eliott says. “I thought you really wanted it back. You talk about it all the time.”

“Stop apologizing,” Lucas says. He’s reminded again that he’s upset with Eliott for something Eliott can’t control. “I’m being stupid. I don’t know why I reacted that way.”

“You do, though,” Eliott says. “You have to know. You can’t just be crying over a sweatshirt. I’ll take it back, if you want. I’ll keep it. It wasn’t even the only -”

“I want you to want the sweatshirt, Eliott,” Lucas says.

Eliott seems completely lost, “But I thought you wanted it?”

“Can we just forget it?” Lucas asks. “We need to get back to the table.”

“Not until I know you’re okay.”

“I’m fine!”

“You’re not fine! You’ve been so weird this whole trip! It’s like you’re mad at me or something.”

Lucas is quiet. He doesn’t know what to say to end this conversation.

Eliott takes his silence as a confirmation, “Are you mad at me? What is it? Is it the job? Lucas, this is what I’ve been working for since I left. Why are you so angry about it?”

“Of course it’s about the job!” Lucas snaps, just barely keeping his voice down.

“You said you were happy for me.”

“I say a lot of shit, Eliott. And so do you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“All of this bullshit about how I’m you’re best friend, and nobody knows you better than me…”

“That is not bullshit.”

“It is, though. I know nothing about your life over there. I just get bits of you when you can string together more than a few hours for a fuck. We’re not friends, Eliott. I barely know you anymore.”

“Don’t say that,” Eliott says weakly. “Lucas, please, you can’t believe that. I tell you everything.”

“Everything? I don’t know about any of your friends in LA. I don’t know who you hang out with or what you do for fun, or who…”

“Who what? Who I’m sleeping with over there?”

Lucas just shakes his head.

“I’m sorry I don’t want to parade my fuck buddies in front of you like you do with me,” Eliott scoffs. “Do you want pictures, or will a list of names suffice?”

Lucas runs his hands through his hair. He groans in frustration.

“I need this to be over.”

“Fine,” Eliott sighs. “Forget about it. I’m sorry. We can talk about it later.”

“It has to be now,” Lucas says, even though he so wants to go back to the table and pretend everything is fine. “And I don’t mean this conversation. I mean this thing between us.”

“Thing,” Eliott repeats. “We’ve been doing this thing for five years, Lucas. You can call it what it is.”

“Fine. We have to stop sleeping together.”

Eliott laughs, and it’s not in humor.

“Why? So you can date Jean?”

“So I can date someone!” Lucas exclaims. “So that I can have a chance to find someone who actually lives in this timezone. Someone who’s around for more than two weeks of the year. It’s not fair Eliott. We should end this now, so you can move to New York and have fresh start. You’ll be busy. You won’t have time to fly here for a night together. Let’s stop.”

Eliott is shaking his head, but Lucas isn’t sure if it’s disbelief or disagreement.

“What does this guy have?” Eliott asks. There’s emotion there, anger maybe.

“What, that you don’t?” Lucas asks. “Not everyone can be a fucking movie star, Eliott. Some of us are just ordinary. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I would never -” Eliott cuts himself off, shakes his head some more. “There is nothing ordinary about you, Lucas.”

“I don’t want to be doing this,” Lucas says. “I don’t want to yell at you in a restaurant. I don’t want to argue. That’s why we need to stop this now, while we can walk away and still be friends. We need to end this before anyone gets hurt.” Before I get hurt more than I already am.

“Friends,” Eliott says flatly. “That’s what you want.”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, Lucas,” Eliott sighs. Lucas watches him drag both hands down the front of his face. It’s familiar, something endearing Eliott does when he’s trying to wake up. Right now, it seems more out of frustration than exhaustion.

“Can we just go finish dinner?” Eliott asks when his arms have fallen back to his sides. He’s avoiding Lucas’ gaze, choosing to stare at his shoes.

“Yes. We should, actually.”

They go back to the table, walking only inches apart. It might as well be a mile. When they reach their friends, it’s obvious there’s been an agreement to ignore whatever just happened.

“Birthday cake for the birthday boy!” Arthur says with a sweeping gesture toward the various desserts spread across the table.

“Wow,” Lucas says, faking some excitement. “Amazing.”

He sits back down, and he lets Jean serve him some cake. Eliott is quiet, but he joins as the boys insist on singing “Happy Birthday.” There’s a round of applause from the surrounding tables, but Lucas can’t salvage his good mood.

They finish dessert with some surface-level conversation. They had back toward the front, and Lucas isn’t sure if the silence is uncomfortable to everyone or just him.

He’s at the back of the group, and he has the perfect vantage point to watch the maitre d’ slip Eliott her number as he walks by her stand. Lucas isn’t sure what he’s expecting, or why he has any expectations at all, but he’s crushed as he watches Eliott slip the card into his pocket with a little smile.

It’s over.

They linger outside the restaurant for a hot second. Lucas wonders if the boys had plans to get drinks after dinner. This is France, a two-hour birthday dinner is almost faux pas. They should be dining until morning. If there were plans, they’ve been wordlessly cancelled. They boys have picked up on Lucas’ poor mood, and everyone starts exchanging goodbyes.

While Lucas assures Yann he had a good time, he sees Eliott and Arthur speaking rapidly a few feet over. Lucas moves to Basile, thanks him earnestly for planning everything. He apologizes for putting a damper on the night.

“It’s your birthday, Lulu! You can’t ruin your own party.”

“Okay,” Lucas says. “I’m still sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it!” Basile reiterates. He looks over to Arthur and Eliott. “And, Lucas, I’m here if you need to talk.”

Lucas will blame the sudden urge to cry on the cumulative effects of a rough night. He pats Bas on the back and wanders over to Jean.

“Thank you for the pan,” he says because he can’t think of anything else.

“You’re welcome,” Jean says. “Listen, Lucas…”

Lucas gets the sinking suspicion he’s about to be dumped for the second time in one night. But, then…

“Could we, um, maybe get dinner this weekend? There’s something I’d like us to talk about… Something I’d like to ask you about, I guess.”

It’s said quickly, nervously even. If Lucas were a better person, he’d turn him down. He’d end this here and stop leading Jean on. In this moment, though, it feels too good to be wanted - even if it’s not by his first choice.

So he says, “Of course.”

And who knows? Maybe he’ll have some grand revelation by the weekend. Maybe he’ll be over Eliott and ready to try something new. Maybe he’ll be the guy Jean wants him to be. He’ll be emotionally available and ready for love.

But Lucas has lived on maybes for the last five years. He knows they rarely work out the way you want them to.

Jean gets in a cab, and Lucas joins his friends again. Yann is holding Jean’s gift. Eliott is still holding the box with the sweatshirt, and he looks so sad. Lucas feels an awful pull of guilt in his stomach. He’s ruined his own birthday and made everyone else feel like shit in the process.

“I’ll call an Uber,” he says to Eliott as a peace offering.

Eliott looks at Arthur. Then, he looks back over at Lucas.

“Okay.”

Lucas calls an Uber, and everyone hangs around until it pulls up. There’s some final goodbyes because Eliott is leaving tomorrow. He has press commitments for a Netflix romcom dropping next week. He plays the best friend, who doesn’t get the girl. How apt.

He joins Lucas, and the ride begins in silence. The sweatshirt sits between them like a wall.

He watches Eliott fiddle with his phone, rub his hands on his thighs, tap his foot against the floor. Finally, he breaks.

“Did, um, you like the food?” he asks. There’s an urge to stay silent. He’s hurt, and he wants Eliott to know it. He also can’t help but feel a bit responsible for all of this. It’s his own feelings that have brought them here. It’s not Eliott’s fault, though it feels like it should be.

“Ouias,” Lucas nods. “Fantastic, really. Worth the hype.”

“I thought so, too,” Eliott says. He’s smiling for the first time since their chat outside the restroom. “But you’re the expert.”

Lucas hums. They’ve broken the ice. That’s good enough for now.

“Would you want a place like that?” Eliott asks. “White table cloths, exclusive wait lists…”

Lucas thinks of his current job. It’s a small bistro - clean, locally sourced food. It’s a bit expensive for what it is, and the ambiance is lacking. The head chef is a total hard ass who is completely unwilling to promote Lucas, even after the years Lucas has spent on his line. He’d like to work somewhere nicer, he supposes, or at least somewhere with nicer people. He’d like some autonomy, and a chance to develop his own dishes.

“I’d like a place that’s mine,” Lucas says truthfully. “Somewhere I can make the menu and curate the experience… White linens aren’t my primary concern.”

“Blue, then,” Eliott suggests.

“Maybe none at all.”

There’s a little pause - a blessedly comfortable silence.

“You should do it,” Eliott says after what had to be a minute or two.

“What?”

“Your own restaurant,” he clarifies. “You should do that.”

“Maybe in ten years,” Lucas laughs. “Renting a restaurant space in Paris isn’t cheap. I’d have to have a loan, and the competition is insane. You can’t throw a rock without hitting some up-and-coming fusion place.”

“You could do it,” Eliot says simply.

“Maybe.”

“Definitely.”

They’re at the apartment now. Eliott grabs the gift box quickly and holds the door open for Lucas to step out. They trudge up the stairs, and Lucas is starting to feel as tired as he claimed to be.

When they get up to the apartment, Eliott darts to the bathroom. He drops the sweatshirt box on the couch as he goes. Lucas hears the shower turn on, so he heads to the bedroom. He gets out of his nice clothes and stands in his boxers surveying his pajama options. He’d normally sleep as is, but he’s not sure if Eliott is joining him. If he is, Lucas wants to be wearing more than just his underwear.

He slips on some sweatpants and a t-shirt. The length of both has him wondering if they might’ve been Eliott’s at one point or another. He can’t dwell on that thought, so he lies back on the bed. He scrolls through his messages and checks Instagram. Eiott has a new story.

He avoids it for all of three seconds, then he clicks.

It’s Lucas - a candid from the restaurant. He’s not looking at Eliott, likely Arthur, but he’s grinning. You can see half-empty wine glasses around the table and not-yet-finished meals cluttering the frame. Still, the mess isn’t the star. Lucas is. It’s captioned in big, white, English letters.

Infinitely worth celebrating <3

And isn’t that so unfair? Lucas clicks off of the story. He clicks back onto it. He does this maybe twenty times. Then, he falls asleep. The shower is still running.

= = =

Lucas doesn’t wake up until the next morning, and he’s surprised the other half of the bed is unmade. Eliott must’ve slipped in after Lucas fell asleep. What does that mean? Nothing? Everything?

Nothing, it seems, because when Lucas walks into the living room there’s no trace of Eliott. His bags are gone. The pillows are correctly arranged on the couch. The coffee maker isn’t running. The door to the balcony is closed and latched.

The only sign he was there at all is that damn gift box on the coffee table. Lucas can barely stand a fleeting glance it’s way. After all of that, Eliott still left the stupid sweatshirt. In a moment of rage, Lucas takes the box, carries it to his room, and shoves it under the bed. It’s a relief. Out of sight, out of mind may not work where Eliott is concerned, but maybe it will work for a piece of clothing.

= = =

He gets some less-than-subtle texts from the guys throughout the morning. Each of them having some poorly concocted reason they need to see Lucas today. Finally, Lucas opens their group chat and puts an end to it.

Lucas: Since you’re all dying to check in on me, I thought we’d consolidate to one event. Dinner tonight?

Yann: My place? I’ll order food.

Arthur: YES PLEASE

Bas: BRO NIGHT

Lucas busies himself with cleaning the apartment. He scrubs down the bathroom. He changes the sheets. He washes the blanket Eliott used the night he slept on the couch. In effect, he ttires to erase Eliott’s visit. He even throws away the deodorant Eliott accidentally left behind.

It feels good while he’s doing it; it feels horrible once it’s done.

And then, like a cosmic reminder of the irrevlevence of his actions, he gets a text.

Eliott: Back in LA. Call me soon?

Then, again.

Eliott: Please

Lucas steels his heart, turns off his phone, and heads to Yann’s place.

= ==

Lucas has to give the guys credit. They manage to avoid the topic for the first hour of the night. They talk about Yann’s new job, and whether or not Arthur and Alexia will get back together.

Basile tells a long story about Daphne that really goes nowhere, but they indulge his infatuation. It even makes Lucas a little jealous. In high school, no one would’ve picked Basile as the first of them to settle down with their soulmate. As much as they rag on Basile, Lucas knows they’re all a little jealous of him.

When they’ve finally exhausted all other talking points, Yann brings it up.

“Have you talked to Eliott?” he asks.

“Nope,” Lucas shrugs. “I mean we talked a little on the drive home, but when we got back I fell asleep while he was in the shower. He left before I got up.”

“That’s it?” Arthur asks.

“Yeah.”

“So, he’s back in America?” Yann asks.

“Yeah,” Lucas nods. “He, um, he texted me today he made it back. He asked me to call him.”

“So call him!” Basile says eagerly. “Call him now!”

“What’s the point?” Lucas asks. “It’s ruined. I ruined it.”

“How, though? What happened in the bathroom?” Basile asks. Then, “That’s not a question I’ve ever wanted to ask about you and Eliott.”

“I told him we needed to stop having sex. I followed your advice.”

“My advice was to tell him how you feel,” Basile says.

“Well, it would be for shit either way. Why tell him when he doesn’t feel the same?”

“You don’t know that,” Basile groans. “You won’t know unless you ask!”

“I shouldn’t have to ask!” Lucas nearly yells in frustration. “You know Eliott. He wears his heart on his sleeve. He loves everything. He falls in love with books, and stray cats, and fucking specks of dust. Then, he spends days talking about it to anyone that will listen. If he were in love with me, he would’ve told me by now.”

He assess his friends. For the first time, Yann and Basile seem a little convinced. Lucas feels validated.

“I know Eliott,” Lucas reiterates. He blinks and realizes his eyes are watery. “He doesn’t think of me that way, and I can’t do that to Eliott.”

“Do what?” Yann asks.

“Make him turn me down,” Lucas explains. He sniffs a bit, rubs his eyes quickly. “I can’t stand the thought of it. I can’t tell him and make him feel like he has to fake something to make me happy. If I tell him, he’ll have to tell me he loves me but not like that. And, I would probably cry, and he’d die of guilt.”

Arthur, who’s been suspiciously quiet throughout this entire exchange, finally speaks.

“Lucas, I think you should tell him.”

“Did you not listen to anything I just said?”

“I did,” Arthur says, “but I also listened to Eliott after your party last night. He was upset, Lucas. He thinks you ended things because you want to date Jean.”

“Two days ago, you were all telling me I should date Jean!”

“Not me!” Basile insists. “I think you should date Eliott!”

“I think I should date someone who wants to date me,” Lucas says. “Now can we please talk about anything else.”

The guys all exchange looks. There’s a silent agreement and a change of subject.

= = =

Lucas doesn’t call Eliott. He feels guilty about it. He’d ended things to protect their friendship, but ending things didn’t stop him from getting hurt. He’s in mourning for a relationship that never was and now never will be. He keeps thinking of his younger self, who spent all of high school hung up on his best friend.

Even High School Lucas considered High School Eliott out of his league, but he was blessed with the optimism of youth. He’d imagine some future version of himself who was worthy of Eliott. A successful, cultured Lucas who would finally win Eliott over. He fantasized about it daily and dreamed about it nightly. He imagined what it would be like to press his lips against Eliott’s. He blushed thinking of sharing a bed. Eliott would catch him staring sometimes, but he never called him out. He’d just smile, or smirk a little, or wink. It’s like he knew exactly what Lucas was thinking, and he didn’t mind.

In those moments, he felt a little hope. Even when Eliott dated Lucille, they’d have conversations or share looks when Lucas just knew something was brewing between them. He was willing to play the long game.

Then, Eliott had decided to move to LA, and Lucas had screwed everything up. He panicked and gave up on the idea of becoming the man Eliott would want to marry. He settled for being the guy Eliott would be willing to sleep with. He felt the window closing, and he knew Eliott would forget him if he didn’t act there and then.

Now, five years later, he’s finally accepting the consequences.

It wasn’t a breakup, but it hurts like one. In some ways, Lucas feels a breakup would hurt less. At least it would have defined terms, and he’d have had the chance to date Eliott in the first place. Instead, he’s put himself in eternal limbo. He’ll never know if he and Eliott could’ve made it as a couple, and he’s ruined their chance to make it as friends.

So, he can’t call Eliott. Not right now.

He avoids Eliott, the guys, everyone for a couple of days.

Then, he calls Jean.

= = =

They’re five minutes into dinner when Lucas realizes this is never going to work. Yann thought he would be more into Jean if he dropped Eliott, but the opposite seems to be true.

The thing is, when he had Eliott, he wasn’t looking to create an emotional connection with anyone else. It sounds awful, and that’s because it is.

He’s embarrassed now of how little he’s invested into his last few… what? Hookups? Flings? Boy friends?

Jean is telling a story about work, and Lucas is trying to act interested. His mind wanders though, and he’s stuck thinking over the last five years and everything he could’ve done differently.

He should’ve told Eliott how he felt at the airport. There had been an opening - one moment of silence right before they went their separate ways. He should’ve said it.

He should’ve said it at least once in the days and weeks and months that followed. Basile is right. It’s not fair to expect anything from Eliott without giving him all of the information.

He feels like such an enormous fucking -

“Lucas?”

Shit. What had Jean been saying? Lucas gets ready to beg off, claim exhaustion or something.

“Sorry, I…”

He trails off. He’s so tired of lying.

Jean doesn’t look mad. He looks, curious? Appraising?

“Shit,” he says finally. He shakes his head a little.

“I’m sorry,” Lucas tries again. “You’re really - the timing is just -”

Jean thankfully cuts him off.

“So the video was about you,” Jean says.

“Video?” Lucas asks.

“I mean I thought it could be, with all the weird stuff at your birthday dinner, but I talked myself out of it.”

“What video?” Lucas asks again, but Jean is still talking.

“Like why would you be with me if you could have Eliott Demaury?”

“Eliott?” Lucas asks faintly.

“You haven’t seen the video?” Jean asks. “It’s everywhere, Lucas.”

“I’m taking a break from social media,” Lucas explains. And I’ve silenced all of my group chats. His palms are itchy. His throat is dry. “I don’t… What’s the video?”

Jean pulls out his phone. He taps around few a seconds. Then, Lucas phone bleeps.

“I sent it to you,” Jean says. “You should watch it. Today.”

Lucas looks at the message. It’s a link to an interview with Eliott.

Eliott Demaury Dishes on his First Times

“Jean…”

“Don’t worry about it, Lucas,” Jean says with an easy smile. “It’s not like I was in love with you or anything… Well not yet, anyway.”

“You don’t want to be in love with me,” Lucas says. “I’m a mess.”

“Most people are. Now get out of here!” Jean gestures to his nearly full glass of wine. “Let me drink away my sorrows in peace.”

Lucas would feel guilty, but Jean is smiling and clearly kidding.

“I might take mine with me,” Lucas jokes. “Not sure I can make it through the video without it.”

“I think you will.”

Huh.

= = =

Lucas takes his time getting home. His phone burns a hole in his pocket, but his legs move slowly. He aches to watch it, but he’s equally afraid to do so. He doesn’t want to be disappointed. He wants to hold onto the hope that something great is about to happen. It’s like having to click the link to check your grade on a final or trying to sleep in on Christmas morning.

And even though the video will be available for the foreseeable future, it feels imperative to watch it now. He has some unfounded fear if he lets it sit, he’ll miss his chance. He clicks the video.

The thumbnail makes Lucas’ stomach drop. They’ve screen-capped an obviously emotional Eliott. To an untrained eye, the expression could mean anything - good or bad. Lucas knows it though. It’s the sad smile Eliott gives any time he thinks he’s revealed too much. A self-deprecating tilt to his lips to make the listener more comfortable. A false reassurance Eliott uses to show he knows he can be a bit too emotional sometimes.

What kind of interview is this?

He presses play.

It’s a shock to see Eliott, even through a screen, after days of avoiding him. He looks good, if a little distracted. People like that though. Handsome and aloof. It looks wrong on Eliott, even if only to Lucas’ specially attuned eyes.

Eliott breezes through the first couple of “Firsts.” First kiss, first apartment, first big break. It’s a fairly light interview, Eliott even manages a laugh or two. He tells one story about his first time sneaking out, which involves Basile and a make-shift rope that makes Lucas smile. He feels an ease come over him. It’s like his body has a Pavlovian response to Eliott’s voice. The tension he’s been carrying for the past few days falls away. He could fall asleep sitting up on the couch, listening to Eliott talk endlessly about his first concert.

But then, the video is drawing to a close, and they come to what must be The Question.

There’s a jump cut, and the graphic next to Eliott changes to say “First Love.”

Eliott rubs his hand over his mouth, folds his lips in, and nods a bit.

“Right, um,” he says. “I’ve only been in love once…”

The hope leaves his chest in one fell swoop. Lucille . He goes to turn the video off. Why would Jean -

“We met in high school.”

Lucas jerks his hand away from the track pad. He and Lucille didn’t meet at school…

“It was love at first sight,” Eliott continues wryly. “Well, on my end at least.”

He grins at the camera, and Lucas is reminded why Eliott is where he is. He’s captivating, innately interesting, an excellent story teller. Lucas leans in. He wants to hear more.

“I was new, and he was talking to his friends in the hallway. They were hanging on his every word, and then they all laughed. I felt like I had to know him. Something in me knew it was important we meet.”

Eliott pauses. He blinks a little, swallows, seems to realize he’s taken a very serious approach to a light-hearted interview.

“He was also very handsome, or as I would’ve put it then putain canon.”

Holy. Shit.

“I went to my first class that day, but I didn’t hear anything my teacher said. I was building up this guy in my head and imagining what it would be like to know him.”

Eliott breaks again and takes a big breath.

“Then, I got to know him, and he was even better than I thought. My instincts were right. There was an instant connection. We became friends very quickly, and there were moments where I thought we would be something more… We were inseparable, but, um, platonic… He wasn’t out at the time, and I dated a few other people. It never worked. It was always obviously my mind was elsewhere…”

Lucas feels as though he’s in a dream. HE’s had dreams like this before, where Eliott makes these grand declarations - where he confesses to feeling all the things Lucas has felt.

“That’s probably enough, right?” Eliott asks with an uncomfortable laugh. He looks off-camera, and for the first time another voice entered the video. It’s barely audible, and subtitles pop up on the bottom of the screen.

Producer: What ever happened with you two?

“We’re still very close,” Eliott shrugs. “He’s my best friend. My favorite person, really. I don’t think that initial connection will ever go away. The, um, the timing has never been right for us to be romantic. I’ve never really told him how I feel. I suspect he knows - he’ll definitely know if he sees this…”

There it is That embarrassed smile from the thumbnail.

“I’ll hold out hope, though.”

Lucas slams his laptop shut as the video ends. Then, he reopens it. He scrolls through the comments.

westaneliott22: WHO HURT OUR BOY
eliottfan93: Ok but why can’t they be together now???
leelee11: Has his friend seen this??? Awkward.
elionly2121: Plz sign my petition demanding Eliott’s friend give him a chance!!

Right, so everyone hates him. He thinks of the few times he and Eliott have publicly shared photos of one another. How long will it take for someone to guess it’s him? Everyone they went to school with likely already know. Is it already out there? Is that how Jean knew it was about him?

Lucas goes to his messaging app and un-mutes the group chat.

He un-mutes Eliott as well.

There’s an influx of messages, but only one of them is from Eliott.

Eliott: I did something today, and I think you’re going to hear about it. Lucas, can we please talk? I’d rather you hear it from me…

The majority of messages are from the guys. He scrolls past the older ones to see the most recent.

Basile: LUCAS ANSWER US RIGHT NOW
Arthur: ^^^^^^^
Yann: youtube.com/ea35fj
Yann: Let us know when you’ve watched
Basile: I’m trying so hard not to say I told you so
Yann: That’s basically saying it, Bas
Arthur: Lulu at least let us know you’re good. We’re not above breaking down your door.
Yann: Well… two of us aren’t

His mind is racing, but he knows he needs to answer.

Lucas: I’ve seen it. Need some time to think.
Lucas: Love you guys.

He sits for a second, leans back and closes his eyes. Breathes in. Breathes out.

His eyes snap open. It’s weird. Shouldn’t his heart be racing. Shouldn’t his palms be sweaty? Where’s the urge to pace the apartment? Why isn’t he paralyzed with fear? Shouldn’t he be hyperventilating, or crying, or screaming?

He’s calm. Lucas takes another deep breath, but nothing changes. He feels completely at ease.

For the first time in years, he feels settled. He stands, shakes out his arms and legs. There’s no tension to be found. He’s loose. He’s relaxed. He’s… smiling? Grinning, really. Then, he’s laughing.

Eliott loves him, and it feels so fucking good.

Suddenly, everything seems so simple. It’s like he’s been living in limbo for five years, waiting for something to spur him one way or the other. Now, this video has shoved him back into reality. He can move freely. He can make his own decisions. He can be with Eliott if he wants to be.

And he really wants to be.

So, he packs a bag - a big one.

He books a ticket - for this afternoon.

He texts his boss - he quits.

And he texts the boys.

Lucas: Thought about it. Going to LA. Wish me luck.
Basile: I’M CRYING
Arthur: run for your love Lulu!!!
Yann: YES

Lucas checks the time. Ideally, he would’ve left for the airport five minutes ago. So, he slips on his shoes and rushes for the door.

Only, he stops right as he turns the handle and rushes back to the bedroom.

He crouches beside the bed and digs around until he feels the box. He rips it open and pulls out the sweatshirt. The thing that started all of this - in more ways than one.

He goes to put it on, but something falls on the floor.

It’s an envelope. Presumably a birthday card.

It’s a simple card, textured white paper, black type writer font simply saying “Happy Birthday” in English. He must’ve gotten it in America.

He opens it up, and there’s a folded piece of paper inside. Lucas opens it up.

It’s a receipt. For a Wolf oven.

Lucas throws the receipt on his bed and turns back to the card.

Lucas,

Happy birthday. I thought of a thousand things to get you, but settled on two that will hopefully provide you with a fraction of the comfort your friendship has provided me.

A new oven, so you can spend time in your happy place.

An old sweatshirt, so you can spend time in mine.

With love,
Eliott

P.S. I will not return the oven. Don’t even try.

Lucas blinks, and two tears land on the card in quick succession.

He drops the card on the floor, and he pulls the sweatshirt on. It doesn’t fit like it used to. It gapes around the wrists and the neck is a little stretched out - signs of wear from someone a bit bigger than him. It smells like cigarettes but also like fresh laundry. It mostly smells like Eliott.

He needs to go.

= = =

Time seems to move rapidly from there. He’s at the airport, he’s on a plan, and then he’s off the plan. In reality, hours have passed - almost an entire day. Coming to LA means he’s moved back in time. Today would be yesterday if he were still in Paris.

As he waits for his luggage, he realizes he’s made a bit of a mistake. He has no idea where Eliott lives. He has an idea, but he doesn’t have an address.

He switches his phone off of airplane mode, and there’s a message.

Yann: Got this from Idriss. Good luck!

There’s a pinned location attached that must be the house Eliott rents in LA. He copies the address to his Uber app. 45 minutes. LA is freaking huge.

His bag comes around the carousel, so he grabs it and heads outside. Someone has already picked up his ride request, and he surprises himself with how quickly he picks out the correct car from a sea of unfamiliar American makes.

His leg bounces the entirety of the drive. His phone dings a few times, but he keeps it face down in his lap. He’s not even bothering to check the map of his ride, willing to put complete trust in a stranger to avoid looking at his phone. He doesn’t want to know how close or far he is. His nerves are bad enough without a countdown.

These are the last few minutes he’ll have to imagine a life where he and Eliott are together. Grand romantic declarations aside, Lucas has to acknowledge the possibility Eliott may turn him down. He may be too late. There’s a chance Eliott has decided he’s not worth the trouble. What if he’s left it too long?

The car stops. Lucas thanks the driver and lugs his bag out the door. The Uber drives away, but Lucas stays still.

It’s a small house. Very Californian. White stucco and surrounded with greenery. It’s welcoming in its own way. Almost familiar despite being entirely un-Parisian.

Deep breaths. Now or never.

He lets one foot follow the other to the front door. He has a moment of panic.

Is Eliott even home? Does he even want to see me?

He rings the bell anyway. He’s come this far.

It takes a minute. A few seconds longer, and Lucas may have been running for the hills. But, then, Eliott opens the door.

Lucas isn’t sure what he expected. Some staring. Some confusion.

He got neither.

Instead, Eliott let out some sort of squeal. A sound entirely founded in surprise? joy?

Lucas is nearly yanked across the threshold when Eliott wraps him in a hug.

And Lucas feels so stupid. Here he is, ready to flee for fear of rejection, and here’s Eliott ready to forgive him without a hint of an apology.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Eliott mumbles. “I thought… I was worried…”

“I’m such an asshole,” Lucas mutters back. “I’m sorry, Eliott. I shouldn’t have let you leave like that.”

Eliott finally lets go.

“Lucas,” he says. Lucas meets his eyes. They’re misty, but so are his own. “There’s something you should know.”

Lucas knows he’s about to tell him about the video. It suddenly feels very important Lucas speak first.

“I love you.”

“You…” Eliott trails off. He looks at Lucas - head to toe. Then, his eyes dart back up to his shirt. Well, sweatshirt, rather.

“You found the note,” he says.

“And the oven,” Lucas says wryly. “I can’t believe I missed it before.”

“To be fair, it was just a picture of an oven.”

“And I saw the video,” Lucas confesses. “Eliott, that’s the most, um, the most romantic thing… You really see me that way? All of this time?”

“Yes, Lucas. Of course I have.”

“I didn’t know. I swear I never thought -”

“I didn’t want you to know,” Eliott says. “I didn’t want to force you into something you didn’t want.”

“I want it,” Lucas says fervently. “I want it more than anything. That’s why I was so upset about the sweatshirt. It was like you, um, you were returning the part of me that was always with you. I thought it meant you couldn’t possibly feel the same way about me.”

Eliot has a sad smile.

“I gave it back because I wanted you to have a part of me. Especially since I thought you were about to end our… arrangement… for Jean.”

“So we could’ve been together all of this time,” Lucas sighs. “I’ve been such an asshole.”

“Hey,” Eliott says. “I could’ve told you at any point. It was my choice not to. It was the wrong one, obviously, but it was mine.”

“We’ve wasted years,” Lucas mumbles. It’s a heavy thought. One that could put a damper on this whole reunion, but then…

“Ow! What the hell?” Lucas jumps back as he feels a sharp pinch to his arm. He doesn’t get far before Eliott wraps him back up in his arms.

“I just can’t believe you’re here,” Eliott sighs. “Had to make sure you were real.”

He leans down and kisses the side of Lucas’ head. He seems reluctant to pull away far enough to connect their lips.

“Yeah, well, you’re supposed to pinch yourself when you think you’re dreaming. Not me.”

“Can you stay awhile?,” Eliott asks, completely ignoring him. “When do you have to go back?” He sways them a bit, grip only tightening.

“Funny story,” Lucas says. He’s makes an attempt to untangle them enough to make eye contact. He wants Eliott to know this is serious for him. “I quit my job.”

“Lucas!”

“I said I was ready to be with you, and I mean it,” Lucas says. “I want to be wherever you are, and I can be a chef anywhere. So, I quit.”

Eliott’s grin is wide, his eyes barely open from the upturn of his cheeks.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” he says, disbelief and awe. His hands move up to cup Lucas’ cheeks, and he kisses him It’s slow - and hot - a nod to the realization they now have nothing but time. Lucas wonders if it’s stupid to think the kisses are better now. Eliott’s always been the best he’s ever had, but it’s like everything is renewed. And if kissing is this much better…

“Is this the longest we’ve gone without jumping each other?” Lucas asks, inspired by this new train of thought. He pulls one of Eliott’s hands down and interlaces his fingers with his own.

“Depends,” Eliott says. “How long has it been?”

Lucas doesn’t care enough to look at his phone. He doesn’t want to pull his hands away.

“Probably over five,” he says.

“Oh, we’re definitely getting better,” Eliott says, faking a serious nod.

“If we wait another minute, I think we’ll double the previous record,” Lucas adds thoughtfully.

Eliott steps away fully, and for a second Lucas is worried he’s going to make them wait.

Then, he grabs Lucas hand and starts leading him further into the house. Lucas goes willingly in the direction he can only assume is of the bedroom.

“Not worth it,” Eliott says. “Screw the record.”

“Yeah,” Lucas agrees. He’s smiling, all false seriousness dropped. There’s no need to pretend around Eliott. Not anymore.

= = =

= = =

They lay low for a while, and it’s amazing . He settles into life with Eliott so quickly, the days pass like hours. He blinks, and it’s been three months since he’s been in Paris. He’d caved about three weeks ago and finally asked the boys to ship over some more of his things. Despite Eliott’s insistence that he didn’t mind sharing his clothes, Lucas was beginning to feel a little guilty for the constant mooching.

“What about this one?” Eliott asks. He slides Lucas’ iPad across the coffee table, and Lucas shoots a hand out to stop it before it can fall to the ground.

Lucas raises an unimpressed eyebrow his way. The chaos is endearing, but not enough to justify cracking his screen.

“Sorry,” Eliott pouts. “But look! It’s perfect.”

Lucas rolls his eyes, a move that has become increasingly more fond as the months pass. He looks at the page Eliott has pulled up, ready to be disappointed again.

It’s a game they’ve been playing of late - who can be more convinced they’ve found a place in New York only to have it resolutely turned down by the other. They have different styles. Lucas leans toward flats similar to what he had in Paris. Simple. White. Small.

Eliott is fixated on getting something bigger. Something colorful and bright. He’s insisting on a big kitchen, for obvious reasons, and he seems to expand the budget a bit every time he finds something new.

That’s been an adjustment. Lucas knows Eliott has made good money. The modeling alone could’ve sustained him quite comfortably. The bit parts in movies and TV shows pay more than Lucas would’ve thought. And this new Netflix series is slated to pay out well. Still, Lucas finds it hard to trust any semblance of financial security.

It’s something they disagree on, but not something they’re willing to continuously argue over. Eliott comes from money and makes his own now. He can never fully understand where Lucas is coming from, and Lucas will never fully understand Eliott’s position.

It’s not the hill to die on, though. Also, acquiescing just means he has to live in a nicer apartment. There are worse sacrifices to make.

He flips through the photos Eliott’s real estate guy sent their way. He can feel Eliott watching him, so he tames his features. He doesn’t want to give anything away.

He’s equal parts impressed and annoyed. Eliott has finally found something that splits the difference between them. It’s modern but grounded with original hardwood floors. The counters are white, but the cabinets are a deep blue. He’s sure Eliott will have something to say about the use of color theory. The bedroom has near floor-to-ceiling windows. He knows how important natural light is to Eliott, who sometimes wouldn’t get out of bed without it. There’s a guest room, too, and Lucas can imagine piling the boys in there when they come to visit.

So, yes, he’s impressed. But, yes, he’s annoyed. Eliott found it first, and he’s lost the first bet they’ve made as a couple.

Lucas sighs, keeping his expression entirely neutral. He tosses the iPad onto the couch where it makes a soft landing. Then, he stands and starts walking to the bedroom.

“Lucas?” Eliott calls behind him. “What are you doing?”

“You win,” Lucas calls back, still walking.

“I do?”

“Don’t act so surprised! You knew I would like it.”

He can hear Eliott hurrying to catch up with him.

“Does this mean -”

Lucas pulls his shirt off in the doorway of their room. He turns back to look at Eliott.

“A deals a deal,” he shrugs. He starts to unfasten his jeans.

“God, I love you.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” Lucas says with a put-upon sigh. “So, how do you want me?”

Eliott begins to pull his own shirt off.

“Let me count the ways.”

= = =

They get to New York before the rest of their stuff. So, it's just Eliott, Lucas, some suitcases, and a new couch for the first few nights. Lucas feels silly for how ridiculously romantic he finds it. His pots and pans are in a truck on the way from California, so they feed each other takeout - butts on the floor and backs pressed against the couch. That first week feels like something from another universe. It's like a preview of what their lives would've been like if he and Eliott had worked things out in high school, or if Eliott had never left for LA. It's the closest they'll get to living like poor university students, learning love doesn't pay the bills.

Then, their furniture gets delivered, Eliott's press tour picks up, and Lucas remembers they're living a very different life. One where this tiny bubble they've created is entirely unsustainable. They'd been recognized yesterday, or Eliott had. But, the girl had known Lucas' name too, likely from piecing together old interviews and studying Eliott's instagram. She hadn't said anything or made any implications she thought he and Eliott were more than friends. It was there though, in the look in her eyes. She'd sniffed them out but was kind enough not to say anything about it or tweet out pictures.

It was a sign of what's to come though, and it's only going to get worse once Eliott's show hits.

For his part, Eliott has been intentionally vague regarding any questions about his love life. And while Lucas is suspicious it's partially because he's a little embarrassed by the First Times video, he knows it's also for him. Eliott doesn't want to force the public eye on him. Initially, Lucas agreed. He knew Eliott's fans would be wary of him if they found out he was the guy from the video. He also knew they couldn't stay anonymous forever.

He's so proud of Eliott, he could burst sometimes. It would be impossible to hold that in longterm.

Lucas is considering all of this as he threads his fingers through Eliott's hair. Lucas is sitting up on the couch, mindlessly looking at job listings for local restaurants. Eliott has settled onto the couch, his head resting on Lucas lap. He's reviewing a script for a table read tomorrow, and it obscures Lucas' view of his face.

"Should we do it?" Lucas asks, dropping his phone into the crack between himself and the armrest. He wiggles around a bit until Eliott sits up.

"We did it this morning," Eliott says, only slightly confused. He's obviously willing to go again if directed.

"Not that," Lucas laughs. He reaches out and scratches lightly at Eliott's upper arm. Then, he slings his arm around his shoulders to get closer. Eliott reaches down for Lucas' legs and pulls them until they're settled across his lap. Lucas reaches back and grabs for his phone. He waves it in front of Eliott's face.

"I meant, should we just post about us and get it over with," he explains. "Obviously."

"Not obviously," Eliott counters. "We haven't talked about that since last night, and nine out of ten times my assumption would've been right. You're insatiable."

Lucas tilts his head back, big eyes, parted lips. Eliott falls for it, pressing his lips to Lucas' before a second has even passed.

Lucas entertains it for a minute, lets Eliott slip his tongue past his lips, lets his hand slide up his thigh.

Then, without warning, he shoves Eliott back.

"Rude," Eliott says, when he rights himself. "And dangerous. I could've bitten you!"

"Eh, I kind of like that."

Eliott, honest to God, giggles.

"Be serious," Lucas says. He pulls his phone up again. "I think we should just do it, and then whatever happens happens. At least then it was on our terms."

Eliott pulls out his own phone and taps around. Lucas isn't sure what he's doing, maybe buying time.

"Will this work?" he says, turning his phone toward Lucas. "I've had it in my drafts for a while, but I was waiting on you to be ready."

Lucas looks at the photo, looks at the caption. He groans.

"Eliott. Do not post that."

"Why not?"

"The caption! Change it."

"No."

"Yes."

Lucas goes for the phone, but Eliott pulls it out of reach. Stupid long model arms.

He can only watch, and shout, as Eliott hits post.

"It's done now," Eliott says, bringing his arm back down. "Can't change the past. No use being mad."

"You fucker."

Nonetheless, Lucas can't help the thrill that goes through him when he opens his own app and sees Eliott's post at the top of his feed. Already his notification icon is flashing in constant update. Followers and mentions ticking up at a rapid rate.

"You have to post one too," Eliott insists, watching Lucas' phone over his shoulder.

"Why? More people will see yours."

"Because that's what couples do," Eliott says. He ruffles Lucas' hair, the same way he has since they were in high school. It still makes Lucas' heart race a bit. He's reminded of how badly he wanted Eliott - even then, when he was in the closet and convinced he could never love him back.

Eliott's right. It feels important he post something too. He's spent too long hiding pieces of himself, filing them away for later days, saving bits for some future Lucas. He's tired of it.

So he messes around on his phone for a bit, and picks his favorite picture they've taken in New York. He stares at it for too long. He's not sure if he's agonizing over the caption, or trying to convince himself this is all real. This is his life. Eliott is his boyfriend.

Before he can really rectify all of that, Eliott reaches over him and hits post.

"Hey!"

That's as far as the protest gets. Eliott tosses both of their phones to the ground, and the rest of the afternoon fades away.