┈ ┈ ┈ ⋞ 〈 🔔 〉 ⋟ ┈ ┈ ┈

70 rue de Chronosaurus

19:30

Alas, one avocation dissected from the too-numerous ones of which he could not partake of in his age, whilst being able to avoid the label of a man interested in womanly recreation.

His head swayed from side to side, a cultured ballet with the evening's air. And his nostrils flared to better soak in the mossy yet nostalgic odour that the rain initiated on the outside, seeping in through the open spaces at the windows and doors.

The young man's eyes were closed with his task, allowing a more appropriate setting for his mind to bask, undisturbed, in the sophisticated melody pleasing his eardrums. Fingers moving skillfully along the black and white keys, and a deep hum running past his throat with every soft beat.

Claire de Lune, by Claude Debussy. A classical of which Felix first heard as a young boy on his way to France from Australia. The day could still be replayed as a film in his conflicted mind. And although black and white and pixeled at some parts, all could be deciphered.

The congenial song rippled from the tape of a wealthy bloke at the airport on that date; sauntering the varnished floors with his ornate luggage, dark shades, and poorly-shaped mustache that had caused Felix to twist his face in confusion, considering the pulchritudinous maiden at his side.

Although judging the private and carnal aspects of the stranger's life, which Felix had no rightful opinion in, he remembered how that specific ditty made him feel. His toes had wiggled within the confinement of his shined shoes, lips pursed, breaths eased, and shoulders relaxed.

The primary reason behind Felix's calm demeanor on that flight from Australia to Paris was along the lines of the faint recital of that song in his head as he feigned slumber, hoping to be able to play it himself, one day in the narrated future.

The first time that the tips of Felix's fingers had contacted the ivory keys of an aged piano was at the age of fifteen, within the four walls of the Han ménage. He could enunciate the sheer joy that he endured from just stepping into the welcoming home and unintentionally directing his sight toward the living room where a grand piano stood.

So grateful, he was, that Han Jisung was willing to allow a pair of foreign hands to caress the instrument. Willing to teach him, firsthand, the basics of the art and focus; and to be one with the music.

Perhaps aiming to allow the oneness of their hearts, in their foreseeable future.

"I'm quite impressed," a voice chorded, and Felix jumped, heartbeats quickened. His fingers stilled in an instant, sweating, and the previously relaxed fold of his lips parted from utter consternation as he looked to the side. "Don't be frightened. I was only admiring your talent. You can go reach far places with such a skill, you know?"

"W-well, thank you, Mr. Bang-- Chan. Thank you, Chan," Felix lowered his head, chewing on his lower lip from the undeniable nervousness distancing his breaths. His legs itched to lift him up and out of that small sitting room, but fear of ineludible impoliteness opposed as tension in his muscles.

He watched as Chan seated himself on the empty stool a short way behind him, with a glass of Mr.Lee's homemade grape wine held fancily by one hand, bringing it up to his lips for a long and hungry sip.

"How long have you been playing?" Chan asked, crossing one leg over the other, and keeping eye contact with Felix that the latter found to be too natural for his elder, yet too awkward for himself. "You play with such grace and finesse, so I know you could not have started just yesterday. Although, I would not completely put it past you."

"I've been playing for about four years now," Felix looked away from Chan's near demanding gaze, praying that his father would return home from his evening duties at the church, or his mother from her early rest, or Louise from her childish engagements in one of the bedroom's upstairs, to save him from the ticklish conversation. "Touched my first key at the age of fifteen, at my friend's home. He taught me most that I know."

"Ah, this friend must be quite special," Chan hummed with an upward nod, sipping more on the alcohol, "I'd hope to acquaint myself with him whilst I stay here," he chuckled. "Joking, I'm only joking. But I do find it interesting that youngsters like you are so able to perform such art. I'm more used to older folk picking up music as their hobby."

"Well-- thank you, again." Felix shivered, unsure how to continue with conversation. "I thought that you would-- that you'd go out with father to the church this evening... He usually goes on some nights to prepare things for Sunday service. Mum prefers to stay home with Louise mostly, and either respect my time alone with the piano," he smiled, looking at the instrument, "I thought home would be too boring for you, to be honest."

"Your father is a difficult man, Felix," Chan laughed throatily, coughing into his elbow. "If I err in the decision to follow him to the church, I'd not remain as the happy man I am now. The values of religion were never fruits juicy enough to fill my basket," he shrugged, "but he's a good man. Respects my beliefs as I do him, and that's what matters."

"Alright then," Felix pursed his lips, sighing, "How-- how is Australia? I haven't visited in ages. I heard women have been given more rights over there, improving as time goes by... It has been long enough."

"Yes, that's true. You keep up with the news, I commend that," Chan winked, grinning. "Australia is hot, per usual. Beautiful women in every corner," he smirked, cocking his head sideways at Felix's cheeks, flushed all of a sudden. "Have you got your young eyes on any fair lady already?"

"N--no," Felix let out in a hushed voice, meeting Chan's eyes again, "I'm just not into women as of now. My aim is to focus on education... I pursue religious education at Sorbonne University..."

"Father's choice?"

"Yes sir."

"Alright, alright. So absolutely no woman has caught your eye?" Chan persisted, finishing the last of his drink. "You've got how many years? Nineteen? If it is so, then your hormones are pretty damn controlled if I might say."

"I'm just not attracted-- no, sir," Felix's breath hitched, angered at his tongue. Terrified of the mistake that he had almost drawn with his speech, and anxious that he had already said too much. "Women and love just aren't my focus right now."

Nodding, almost prepared to agree with his unspoken assumptions, Chan stood from his visibly uncomfortable sit, pulling at the hem of his grey shirt, and resting a heavy hand on the slim boy's shoulder, squeezing lightly before retracting.

"Okay, Felix," he nodded, smiling, "Just ensure that you keep being you, alright?"

"Yes, Chan."

+ + + + +

70 rue de N/S

16:00

"Tu m'as manqué, mon amour."

I've missed you, my love.

"I know," a reply sang back in identical language, the voice deep, whilst the owner's hand carelessly caressed the clothed waist of the one before him. "I'm deeply sorry that I can't visit as often as in old times. Father has become stricter on my whereabouts, and there's an extra pair of eyes around the house, now that his friend has visited for god knows how long."

"I am this close," the unnamed lover lifted his hand before the first, thumb and index finger held ever so close together to add emphasis to his statement, "to suggesting that you get married to a prostitute so that you may be permitted to live on your own, whilst the woman would hardly pay you any mind," he frowned, "My heart aches every time I think of you."

The slimmer of the two snickered at his partner's threat, finding the way that his rosy cheeks puffed out to be quite adorable, and desiring nothing more than to pinch and kiss them as much as possible. He leaned back with little vigilance against the balustrade, blond hair swaying with the afternoon's wind, and freckled cheeks coated underneath with a dim blush at just the perfume of the man before him.

"I would like us to go on a trip, Felix," a kiss met the blond's lips, either contented that they could perform such an act so openly, yet one still somewhat skeptical, fearful that a busybody member of his father's congregation would bear witness. "May we?" The other continued, biting his lip when he pulled away.

"I'm afraid not, darling. What would I tell my father? I'm only nineteen, and I'm certain that he'd be reluctant to let me roam so freely, unmarried and not yet twenty-one. I know that you miss me as I do you, but I promise that better days are ahead, alright? Don't worry too much, Jisung."

"Do your parents still speak of me every dinner?"

"Sometimes," Felix sighed heavily, guilty, "but don't worry... And I'll be forever grateful that you made those confessions just to rid my blame from that letter, Ji. I owe you everything, really."

"What can a man not do for his love?" Jisung recited, blushing profusely whilst one of Felix's hands caressed his cheek.

What sweet love, they idealistically shared. One so unhesitant and willing to tarnish his reputation in order to save the respectable fate of the other.

Jisung was one to never let that day be overshadowed by any addition to his memory. When Felix's father got an unfortunate hold of one of the letter's that they had exchanged at the start of the promotion in their bromance, outlining lewd lines of expectations for their future.

Felix had trembled and screamed as he slid down from his bedroom door, mortified. Even went to war with overbearing thoughts of ending his life, at one point. But Han Jisung was so quick to confess his never-done deeds the moment that he was confronted. Ridiculed by his mother and father, reprimanded by his brother, in a letter, who had gone off to the army.

And forced out of the household in which he was raised, finally able to survive and fully sustain himself on his own in the present day.

Felix smiled fondly as he gazed forward at his loved one, leaning in for a longer, deeper kiss, somewhat promising that he'd not go anywhere. That none could divert his heart from the soft contact that was exchanged with the other, no matter how much they were to stay away from each other, for the time being.

The object of love was almost... unrealistic. Greedy to guide those who had been taught the values of salvation as far from the titled source as possible, in order to satisfy the demands and desires of their souls. Willing to fracture the round halos that circled the worthy, helping them down the throne which was pounded into their heads as echos from the altar.

Willing to befriend the son of a pastor so much so as to love a man, and erase the lines of biblical values to rewrite his destiny in a way that he only wanted. No overseer, or critique. No counselor or god above his earthly will.

Felix pulled away abruptly when Jisung slipped his tongue past his lips, eyes locked, flesh swollen, either of their hands cupping an opposite cheek.

"Not here, my love," he whispered before Jisung's lips, glancing back at the bustling street beneath the apartment, and shaking his head. "Someone who knows me could see... so shall we go inside and continue?"

"Most definitely."

"But only cuddles whilst we read together," Felix frowned, "Mother may take note of my swollen lips, and I can't afford them scrutinizing my walk and stance either."

"As long as I can be close to you, Felix. I won't ask for more."

+ + + + +

18:05

There was something off about that evening.

Not the people, nor the mesmerizing sunset that was beginning. And neither was it the leafy smell of the colder season, nor the reminiscence of a lovely time that Felix was able to share with his paramour.

But something. A strange feel lingered in his gut as he trodded the streets of Paris, hastily, with both hands tucked into his trench coat, face serious, and eyes aimed fervently forward.

"Tout va bien, je suis tout simplement paranoïaque."

All is well, I am simply paranoid.

"Felix Lee."

Felix froze at the sudden call of his full name by the recognizable voice, not at all aiding his attempts to calm his edgy nerves. His steps slowed as he crossed the main street before an alleyway, eyes scanning the darker area and widening when a painfully familiar man strolled forward, a dim look on his face.

"Walk with me," he instructed; demanded, walking beside Felix and holding his hand, objective to any protest, reassuring, in a sense, but more bemusing than so. "You should be careful in public places."

"What-- what do you mean, sir?" Felix gulped, struggling to keep sturdy steps. "And why are you holding my hand?"

"Thank your God that it was me who witnessed that lovely exchange between you and who I assume to be Peter Han Jisung, Felix."

"S-sir--"

"Don't fear, at all. It is not in my nature to participate in blackmail or tell tales. I only want to warn you, and I'm more curious now than ever, about you as a person, Felix Lee."

"I'm unsure what to say, Mr. Bang. I can't help but be afraid, because-- because this could ruin me, truly. So please-- please stick to your word." Felix scrunched his face, tears pooled at the corners of his eyes he looked sideways at Bang Chan. The elder's head faced forward, jaw clenched with a cigarette in between his teeth for the few seconds before his hand could bring it down, according to the pattern.

"Put some trust in me, Felix. And rid the formalities, shall you? Call me Chan." Chan smiled slightly, his right, shallower dimple winking with the gesture. He exhaled, "I figured you were more than the typical church boy. It's alright."

┈ ┈ ┈ ⋞ 〈 🔔 〉 ⋟ ┈ ┈ ┈

😍