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By the time Kaoru returned from the restroom, the waiter had already taken their order from Kojiro. As Kaoru sat down, the young chef took out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one with his silver zippo, slowly inhaling before breathing out smoke through his nose. He placed the pack on the circular cafe table, a silent invitation which Kaoru accepted. He grabbed a cigarette, placed it between his lips, and leaned forward so Kojiro could light him up. He puffed on the cigarette a couple of times before letting it lean on the table’s black ashtray. It was his first cigarette since arriving in Paris, and likely not his last. He hadn’t smoked since he was a teenager, and he suspected it was the same for Kojiro. Kaoru smiled to himself as he was reminded of when they’d sneak off campus during lunch to smoke near the train tracks.
Kaoru wasn’t wearing his usual kimono; he didn’t like to draw attention to himself when he was abroad –but he still looked chic enough in a plain black turtleneck and dark jeans. Contrarily, Kojiro was wearing one of his obnoxious short-sleeved button-down shirts– this one had a pattern of colorful parrots –and a pair of shorts and birkenstock sandals. Annoyingly, he somehow pulled off the outfit. Evidently their waiter agreed, considering the shy smile they flashed Kojiro as they dropped off their drinks.
“Why’re you pouting, Cherry?” Kojiro asked with a smile as he took a sip of his beer.
“I’m not,” Kaoru grumbled, though he absolutely was.
“We just got here,” Kojiro said. “Don’t tell me I’m already getting on your nerves.”
“Tch. Just anticipating when you inevitably ditch me for the first person to flirt with you.”
“Hey! The cab driver asked me out, remember? I told 'em I wasn’t interested.”
“How noble of you,” Kaoru said, rolling his eyes and taking a sip of his wine.
“I’m not gonna ditch you, Kaoru,” Kojiro insisted.
Kaoru took another drag from his cigarette and shrugged. “Alright.”
It was golden hour by the time the waiter returned with another round of drinks and their appetizers: salade niçoise, fresh-baked sourdough bread, and a charcuterie board.
Kaoru ate slowly, savoring the taste and not wanting to spoil his appetite for the main course. He watched Kojiro eat, enjoying the little crinkle between his eyebrows as he no doubt was analyzing their meal with his hyperactive chef brain.
“Thoughts?” Kaoru drawled, sipping his wine.
“I need to learn how to fuckin’ bake bread,” Kojiro practically moaned. “Why does the bread from Okinawa bakeries never taste like this?”
Kaoru rolled his eyes with a smile. “Calm down, Monsieur Jean Valjean.”
Kojiro snorted. “That’s rich, coming from you. I seem to remember a certain somebody copying my essay about Victor Hugo in senior year.”
“And I barely passed that assignment,” Kaoru said, unable to repress his smile. “So thanks for that.”
“You’re welcome,” Kojiro grinned, his mouth full. “Wanna try my beer?”
“Sure,” Kaoru said, already pushing his glass of wine to Kojiro.
They took a sip of each other’s drinks, and as Kaoru quietly admired the pilsner’s light flavor, he privately wondered if Kojiro cherished these sort of moments like he did.
“You have the best taste in wine,” Kojiro complimented.
Kaoru blushed. “It’s only because you’ve spoiled me with your selection at Sia.”
Kojiro grinned. “If you think that’s spoiling you, you’re sorely underestimating me.”
Before Kaoru could retort– as if he knew how to respond to that anyway –the waiter returned with their entrees: coq au vin, pommes anna, and lamb tagine.
Kaoru raised an eyebrow. “Trying to fatten me up?”
Kojiro laughed. “I couldn’t decide. But not gonna lie, you’d look good a little chubby. Would give me something to hold onto.”
Kaoru scowled and took a bite of chicken. “You are entirely obscene.”
“Could say the same thing about you,” Kojiro said, shoving potatoes into his mouth. “That shirt clings to you like a second skin. It’s distracting. No wonder you’re always wearing kimonos.”
Kaoru took a long sip of water. “Quit it. I’m trying to enjoy my meal.”
Kojiro smirked and raised his hands in surrender. “Mais oui, mon chéri."
Kaoru rolled his eyes. “Bête.”
***
They each ordered one more drink while they shared another cigarette.
“What’s next on our itinerary?” Kojiro asked with a grin, breathing out smoke.
Kaoru grabbed the cigarette and took a hit. “There’s a bar I want to check out. In the third arrondissement.”
Kojiro raised his eyebrows. “Yeah?”
“Yes. But if you’d rather do something else, fine. I’ll just go on my own–”
“Hold your horses. I didn’t say that. But I was thinking it’d be nice to walk around for a little while. The weather is perfect.”
Kaoru huffed and handed the cigarette back. “Fine.”
***
After dinner, they walked along the Seine. There were vendors selling flowers or cigarettes or beer or pre-rolls. Kojiro handed over ten euro for one of the latter, lighting it up and puffing on it a couple times before handing it to Kaoru.
“You trust people too much,” Kaoru complained, wrinkling his nose as he scrutinized the joint. “How do you know what’s in it isn’t shit?”
Kojiro shrugged. “Seems fine to me.”
Kaoru pursed his lips before taking a drag. It wasn’t a very strong joint, but that was probably for the best considering they were already both a couple drinks in.
“Let’s sit for a while, hmm?” Kojiro murmured, already beginning to settle down along a part of the river where a jazz band was playing not too far away. Kaoru sat next to him, and they passed the joint back and forth.
Kojiro leaned back and closed his eyes. “I love France.”
“Tch. You’ve only been here for a day.”
Kojiro, eyes still closed, smiled. “So? Maybe it’s love at first sight. Wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened.”
Kaoru scoffed. “That’s not saying a lot. You get enamored way too easily.”
Kojiro killed the joint. “I don’t, actually.”
Kaoru fidgeted, antsy. “Let’s keep going.”
***
They walked for a while longer, pausing at a used bookstore and teasing each other with the smutty manga they found in the adult section. The cashier happened to be a Japanese expat, and enthusiastically gave them suggestions on where to get the best sushi in Paris.
From there they crossed the river and stumbled into a couple of clothing shops that were still open. The salespeople fawned over them– no doubt hoping they’d get a healthy commission, but clearly also hoping for something intimate by the way one of them giggled at all of Kojiro’s stupid jokes and the way the other slipped a phone number into Kaoru’s pocket with a wink.
“That looks good on you,” Kojiro suddenly said, his velvety voice cutting through the fluttering flirtations.
Kaoru looked down at the leather jacket he was trying on. “Really?”
“Yeah. You should get it.” Kojiro looked to the sales associate who was practically hanging off his massive bicep. “You deliver purchases to local hotels, right?” When they confirmed they did, Kojiro nodded and handed over his credit card.
“I can pay,” Kaoru grumbled.
“I know. Let me pay anyway.”
Kaoru did.
***
“Hey, this place looks cool. Let’s go in.” Kojiro nodded to a building that was unmarked save for a pink neon arrow that pointed to an entrance.
“Idiot. That’s the bar I said I wanted to go to at dinner.”
Kojiro grinned. “Then it’s fate. C’mon.”
Kaoru was dragged along, pretending that it was a nuisance rather than a pleasure to have Kojiro’s warm hand wrapped around his wrist.
The bouncer didn’t even ask for identification when they walked inside, and for a moment Kaoru was insulted– he didn’t look that old, did he? – until Kojiro chuckled and whispered in his ear, “We’re the hottest people in this place.”
Kaoru blinked up at him, momentarily mesmerized by Kojiro’s smile– even as expected and familiar as it was.
“I’ll go get us drinks, hmm?”
As Kojiro walked to the bar, the music playing transitioned from Whitney Houston to a hyperpop song Kaoru didn’t recognize.
“Bonjour,” a voice purred from behind him. “Are you having fun in Paris?”
Kaoru turned around and smiled. The man was handsome– slender and with a dark beard. “Oui. Paris, c’est beau. Et intéressant. Mais accablante aussi.”
“Ah,” the man smiled back. “Parlez-vous français?"
“Oui,” Kaoru answered. “Mais juste un peu."
“Toujours. Vous le parlez à merveille. Voulez-vous danser avec moi?”
Kaoru nodded. “S’il vous plaît."
They had barely started dancing when the man leaned in to whisper into his ear. “Your boyfriend looks angry.”
It took Kaoru a moment to realize that he switched back to English. “My boyfriend?” he asked. He glanced to where his dance partner was casting a nervous look, frowning when he saw Kojiro leaning against the bar and sipping a beer. Kaoru shook his head. “He’s not my boyfriend. We’re visiting France together, but trust me– he doesn’t care about me like that. I’m pretty sure he’s only just realized this was a gay bar.”
Kaoru’s dance partner raised an eyebrow, laughed, and kissed him on the cheek. “I think you are mistaken. He’s coming over here now. Probably to kill me, non?”
Just then, Kaoru felt a heavy arm drape over his shoulders and a cocktail was shoved into his hand.
“Having fun?” Kojiro grumbled.
“I was,” Kaoru said haughtily. “This is–” He caught himself off when he realized he never asked for his new friend’s name. Not that it mattered; he had disappeared into the crowd.
“Hmm,” Kojiro hummed, surprisingly not making fun of Kaoru’s failed would-be hook-up. “I like this song. Let’s dance.”
The music playing was something decidedly slower. Romantic, even.
Kaoru took a sip of his drink. It tasted like aperol and prosecco. “Why?”
Kojiro sighed. “Kaoru. We’re in Paris. We just had a lovely dinner and walk through the city, and now we’re in a bar where people won’t give a shit if we kiss. Can’t we enjoy it?”
Kaoru looked up at him, and tentatively placed a hand on his arm. “Maybe,” he whispered.
Kojiro raised an eyebrow, but smiled. “Maybe?”
Kaoru smiled back, nodding. “If you admit once and for all that this trip would have been a disaster if it weren’t for me.”
“Kaoru,” Kojiro breathed out a laugh. “My entire life would be a disaster without you.”
Kaoru blinked. “Oh.”
Kojiro brushed Kaoru’s hair back and kissed his temple. “Yeah, oh .” He kissed his forehead, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him close as they swayed to the music. “Mon chéri.”
Kaoru leaned into him, resting his cheek against Kojiro’s shoulder. “Bête,” he whispered with a smile.