Mon Chérie

Pete stumbled down the cold Paris streets, jacket done up to the max. His eyes watered from the wind. He was lost and confused and was starting to miss Chicago.

People headed past him, brushing shoulders with him then sending dirty looks. “Could you please—“ He started, to a woman passing by. “I just need to—“ There was a gentle tap on his shoulder and a quiet “Excuse me?”

Pete turned to face the velvety strange voice. A man was standing there, bundled in a black pea coat and scarf, Pete risked a glance up to his face. The man had defined cheekbones and green-blue eyes, honey-coloured hair hidden beneath a black fedora. Pete would never admit he briefly forgot how to breathe.

“Are you, uhm..” He paused, searching for the word. “Lost.” Pete offered, earning a smile from the man. “Where do you need to go?”
“I uh- I just want some coffee, then I want to go back to my hotel, I just- I don’t know where I am.” Pete fumbled around to retrieve the map from his pocket. “This doesn’t help.” This earned a laugh from the man in front of him. “Suivez-moi.” He said, waving his hand a little before he started walking.

Pete took it as a cue to follow him, and stayed close on the crowded street. “I will take you to one of my most best shops.” He said, and Pete couldn’t help but laugh a little.
When they stepped in, Pete glanced around. “Seems like a Starbucks back home.” He offered, watching the people sit and type away on their laptops. The man didn’t seem to know what Pete said, just blinking and nodding a little.

“So, what’s your name?” Pete asked him, jamming his hands in his pockets. “Je m’appelle Patrick” He smiled, raising his eyebrows. “Et vous?”
“Uh- People call me Pete. It’s nice to meet you, thanks for helping me out.” He smiled shyly. “Let me get your, uhm... beverage? They do not speak English here.” Patrick offered, patting Pete’s shoulder gently. Pete nodded gratefully and told him his order before pulling out his wallet. Patrick waved his hand dismissively at it and paid for their drinks.

They stepped outside and Patrick curled his hands tighter around his cup. “It got colder, I think.” He offered, looking at the black haired boy beside him, who nodded thoughtfully. “Seems like it.” They stood in silence for a few minutes, just taking sips of their drinks.

“Where is your hotel? I’ll take you there.” The warm-hearted man offered, looking to Pete, who shrugged and told him where he needs to be.

Patrick cautiously linked arms with him and started down the street. He hummed a song Pete recognized, but couldn’t place. “C'est La Femme, avez-vous entendu parler d'eux?” Patrick asked suddenly. Pete looked up at him, furrowing his brows. “I don’t..?” The blond laughed. “Yes, sorry. I did not remember the word. The uhm... the... the... Oh, what’s the word..”

He chewed on his lip briefly before his eyes light up. “Musician! The musician is La Femme. Have you heard their music before?” Patrick seemed so excited Pete nearly lied just to keep him that way, but he didn’t have the heart. “The song sounded familiar, but the band doesn’t.”

Pete felt a little guilty at the slight disappointment in Patrick’s expression, but quickly bumped shoulders with him. “You have a nice voice, though.” He smiled at the pink that crept across the pale man’s cheeks. “Merci.” He offered shyly, approaching the entrance of Pete’s hotel. “Here we are...”

Patrick pulled his arm away, looking at Pete. “Wow, you’re good, you should be my guide.” Pete joked, smiling at him, and he didn’t miss the way the other’s eyes lit up, a hand going into his coat pocket to fish out a business card, which he handed to Pete. “If you would like.” The blond smiled. “It was nice meeting you. Enjoy your... uh, coffee.” and then he was gone, and Pete was left wondering just what it was about that boy that had his heart pounding.
***
“Mon Dieu, Pete! Tu est me tues!” Patrick cried, gripping Pete’s arms tightly. The black haired boy just laughed, trying to lean over the railing. “We’ve gotta be like, 400 feet up!” He looked to Patrick for conformation. “The Eiffel Tower is roughly 180 meters tall, which is more than enough to... to... to end your life if you were to fall! Stay back away from the railing!”
“How many feet is 180 meters?” Pete asked, admiring the view. He ignored whatever Patrick’s snarky response in favour of screaming over the edge, receiving dirty looks from those around him. Patrick laughed and put a hand over Pete’s mouth. “Could you quiet yourself?”

Though, he couldn’t help the smile playing on his lips, which quickly turned into a look of pure horror as he pulled a now damp hand away from the tan boy’s mouth. “Putain de merde! Ça c’est dégoûtant!” He squeaked, shoving Pete a little.

“I’m going to pretend you just told me you love me.” Pete winked, bumping hips with him. Patrick shook his head. “No. Not in the slightest.” He glared at him and ran his hand roughly down Pete’s sleeve. “Je déteste vous.”

Pete laughed and hugged him. “Love you Tricky.”
“Don’t touch me.” Patrick made a face, squirming away. “Gross Americans.” Pete just laughed again, taking the hand previously licked. “Take me to lunch, would you?”

***
Patrick drove Pete to the airport when it was time to go, and Pete couldn’t stop his eyes from welling up. “I had very much fun, Pete.” Patrick offered, hugging him. “It was a good week, that’s for sure.” Pete squeezed his new friend gently before pulling away. “I have to go.”
“Au revoir, Pete. S'il vous plaît ne me pas oublier.” Patrick said, putting his hands in his pockets. Pete didn’t look back until he was through the glass doors on his way to security, and when he did, the pale boy was still standing there, watching, a sad look on his face.