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70 rue de Chronosaurus

18:30

Memory and intuition could be considered curses, couldn't they? The heirloom of reflection, or the impenetrable urge to look forward and perceive and plan and wish, all maladies. The inevitability of thought brought famine to the mind, birthing anxiety to swarm like locusts, fear to hop and bother like toads. Depression to fret like a stream turned to blood.

The purpose of making memories was singsonged from birth, an accustomed chorus from the tongues of parents, or loved ones. Or oneself.

It had taken Chan thirty-one years to humble before that conclusion, some less, others a lifetime, and the rest, either blessed with life's customized golden spoon, glimmering with fortune and hardly faltering delegation, or fighting with every beat of the heart to avoid the theory. And despite the words that Chan would throw in to strengthen the flames of conversation slipping down memory lane, he desired nothing more than to voice the truth of his heart.

The hate for life. The dread for memory. The crippling fear of the future.

Chan laughed, effusively, living in the 'now'. His eyes shined with his throat's music, his contagious smile infecting that of the others around the dinner table to grow wider, brighter. "The good old days," he opined into their ebullient conversation about some boyish games played as a child, subconsciously reaching for the handkerchief folded on his lap to carry up to his lips, coughing, too vigorously for Mr. Lee's liking.

Chan coughed so hard that tears brewed in his eyes, and watery mucus dripped from his nose. He dropped the rag down with a breath of relief, clearing his throat, visibly more relaxed than merely seconds before.

"Oughta get that cough checked out before you head back, Chan," Florian said, concern laced in the depth of his voice. Pushing a piece of baguette, sliced with precision and toasted to an exceptional crisp to compliment the pasta that they were having for dinner, he chewed and swallowed, and found more words of solicitude for Chan. "You've had this cough since arriving. Is everything alright?"

"It's just mucus in my chest. 'Twas what the doctor said before I came here," Chan shrugged, twirling his fork in his plate, smirking at the white strips of flour, glazed in a red, seasoned sauce, as they danced their way around the feet of the metal, as if excited to be eaten. As if unfazed, in every way, of their fate. Perhaps they were like Chan himself, he couldn't help but theorize.

Mayhap they preferred to bask in the joy of the 'now'.

"Nothing to worry about," Chan went on, stuffing his cheeks with the pasta, fleeing his thoughts. "And by the way, I know you'd never want to ask but, I won't be a bother under your roof for too long. I know I showed up unannounced and all."

"You could never be a bother," Florian chuckled, polite. But Chan knew better. Knew that he and his agnostic baggage could only be welcome for so long, within the religious four walls of the Lee family. Florian cleared his throat, awkward, praying that it'd cover up the questioning intention behind his statement with false oblivion. "You being here is one of the best things to happen in a while. You're welcome for as long as you like."

"Thank you, I appreciate that. But I have a motel booked for the rest of my stay." Chan smiled, chewing and swallowing and sipping on the glass of grape wine, made by Mr. Lee himself, before continuing. "I don't know how long I will stay in France yet, but I know that it might be a while. Of course, I will visit frequently, but I don't want to be too imposing."

"I understand," Florian said. "We're always there to check on you, if you need anything or want anything. Never hesitate to knock at any time. As long as you're not drunk." He laughed, Chan laughed, and so did Mrs. Lee. Louise only tittered under her breath, a strained grin on her face, pre-mature mind completely lost at the foreign movements of the adults' lips, and the strange syllables rolling off their tongues. She shook her head, proceeding with her meal. English was too complicated.

"How come you're so quiet tonight, Felix?" Florian directed to his eldest, head cocked sideways, jaw grinding the food in between his teeth ever so slowly as he observed the monotone discoloring his son's face; pale, freckles more visible on the surface than the norm. "You haven't said a word? Haven't joined in on the laughter? Is everything alright? You've barely even touched your food."

Felix stammered, rubbing his sweaty hands above his plate, looking everywhere but his father's demanding face and Chan's supposedly empathetic countenance. "Nothing's wrong," he lied, appearing so inexperienced for someone who lived a life of deceit underneath his own father's nose.

Perhaps it was because Chan was there, sitting across from him on the mahogany table planted firmly on the tiles in their dining room. Because that Chan Bang knew his deepest, darkest, most shameful secret. Because one line or ill intention from that one man, could crumble his fort from the foundation.

"Are you sure?" Florian pushed further, his unibrow emphasized by the inquiring folds in his forehead, nose scrunched, the lines of preparation for his wrinkles exercising with the stretch of his face. "You aren't this silent, usually. I really want to believe you."

"I think he's alright," Chan called the attention back to himself, shrugging, smiling at Felix before looking back at Florian, eating so casually as if he hadn't just overstepped an unspoken yet discernible boundary. "He's old enough, isn't he? Maybe he just doesn't want to speak of his issues at this time. Right, Felix?" He carried on, too bold for Florian and his wife's preference, the atmosphere suddenly too tense for even Louise's comfort.

Florian cleared his throat, choosing to brush push the gesture aside, and focus on his appetite. He nodded, guiltily appreciating the satisfaction that surfaced with the fact that Chan would be staying for no longer than four days, counting down from that evening.

"Anyways," he said. "Would you be interested in accompanying us to church tomorrow evening, Chan? I know your stance, but you know that you are always welcome."

"Actually..." Chan hesitated, setting his fork down on the empty plate before dabbing a napkin over his lips, and finishing the remainder of his wine. "I was thinking about strolling the streets of Paris tomorrow evening. I'm interested in coming to church with you, truly. But just not tomorrow... I was even planning to ask that Felix accompanies me, to show me around so I won't get lost, you know?"

"Felix?"

"Me?"

"Yes, Felix. Last time I saw the boy he was merely a child," Chan snickered, biting back his nervousness. "All the bonding time can't be for you, Florian." Florian laughed, and Chan relaxed, leaning back in his chair. "What d'you say? Just tomorrow? Please? I'll only be here for so long."

"Well, I suppose we could let him off the hook for tomorrow, right? What d'you say, Carol?"

Mrs. Lee: Caroline Lee, nodded with no reluctance. And like that, all agreed, with the exception of Louise who dreaded her values of respect that kept her seated quietly at that table. To avoid the guilt of standing before the crucifix sealed in the middle of the pulpit did Felix accept without much reluctance, as well as to potentially confront Chan about what was perceived to be taunting.

Felix sighed. Chan coughed.

+ + + + +

18:30

There was not much to see out of the window in Felix's bedroom. The pinking leaves from one of the spanned branches of a maple tree, decades older than his parents' ages combined, found romance with the bars outside his window. He blushed at the thought, poking a finger past the open space to tickle a tip of a leaf, finding beauty in the pairing. Seeing the plant as something that shared his sentiment on the object of love.

How love does not give the chance of choice. How love sets you in one position and demands that you not move, unless you wish to earn a permanent scar, or break, as if that branch dears to shift, it may be no more. Felix wished that he knew how to love, instead of who to love. Wished to love who loved... He shook his head. Sighing, frustrated.

Felix collapsed back-first onto his bed, praying for something to appear and distract him from his own mind. He scratched at the arms of his grey pajamas, fighting the urge to scream, to cry, to confess.

"Felix?"

"Chan?" Felix sat up quickly, regretting his prayers to the above to distract him. He no longer wished to be pulled apart from himself. At least not like that. Not by Chan. Not by the one whom he wanted to avoid with everything that he had, at least until they were alone, like they'd planned, where he would hopefully have the guts for confrontation. "What do you need?" He opened the door of his bedroom, perplexed, uncomfortable.

"I wanted to talk." Chan pushed past Felix effortlessly, carelessly, and closed the door behind him. Felix blinked back the urge to ogle at the slim yet toned arms of an older, broader, more handsome man than those he'd see regularly. He shuddered inadvertently at Chan's clenched jaw, intimidated, taken back by his yearning for the elder's dimples that'd usually be on regular display, just to ease the new tension.

Chan leaned against the edge of the hard-wood varnished drawer in Felix's bedroom, and swiped a finger above the surface nonchalantly, before folding his arms. "How are you?" He asked, Felix growing more and more frustrated by every second spent in the presence of that pompous figure, biting his tongue to not spit back at Chan's tactics, in fear of blackmail.

"What are you gaining from all of this?" Felix asked.

"What do you mean?" Chan rasped out, smirking before joining Felix on his seat at the edge of his unmade bed. Sighing, he let his shoulders fall, let his gaze find and linger on the sharp and detailed side profile of Lee Felix. Let himself admire the constellation of freckles, and the curved, healthy eyelashes, and the plush, pink, chapped pouted lips. Chan shook his head, breathing in. "Can you tell me a bit about Han Jisung, Felix? About your love?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because no, Chan. This isn't a game. I am not a game. My love life... is not a game," Felix ranted on the brink of a shout, mindful enough to keep his volume under subjection. He was certain of the droplets of saliva that drizzled in Chan's direction when he turned his head to speak, but for his own pride, Felix sought to not dwell on that. He rolled his eyes, nostrils flared with heavy breaths, tongue poking at the insides of his cheek. "Now kindly leave so that I can have some sleep."

"I've been in love before, Felix." Chan hummed, shoulders still relaxed, as if Felix's distress did not faze him the slightest. He breathed in; his chest heaved with the action so significantly that one could easily be convinced that the earth's freshest air bounced within the walls of Felix's bedroom. Chan closed his eyes briefly as he reminisced, a smug, unerasable smile on his face, cajoling Felix to heedlessly reach forward and wipe it off but failing. "And when I was in love, all I wanted to talk about was her. So why don't you want to speak of him? Am I not the only one who knows?"

"I have friends who know, Chan."

"You do?"

Felix huffed, defeated. He buried his face into his palms, willing himself to say only so much. "From the church, Chan. I have friends who know about Jisung, okay? I simply do not want to speak about him with you. Now, please go."

"I'll go." Chan stood to his feet with a quiet groan, drawing closer and closer to granting Felix's wish as he neared the door, hand on the knob. His head turned over his shoulder, he breathed in, mumbled something under his breath, incoherent, and left. Left Felix shaking. Left Felix thinking and more overwhelmed with thoughts than before. Crying.

Left Felix to listen to the echoes within the chambers of his heart, of the warnings that he had locked away for so long. Too long.

They grew too loud.

+ + + + +

rue de Maxident

16:00

"Go meet him."

"What?"

"Han Jisung. You know where he lives, I do not. And I won't pressure you to show me either. Just... go meet him. Meet me back here in two hours. Fair."

Felix stood, frozen, hands tucked deep into the pockets of his trench coat, convinced that his ears were almost as deceitful as his heart. He swallowed, hard, eyes wide, throat dry. "Are you being serious?" He asked Chan, feeling numb all over. His peripheral vision blurred, the aesthetic of the evening's surroundings fogged in motion around and behind Chan. All he could see was Chan. Chan's wide smile. Chan's adorable dimples. Chan's tresses, brunette and combed. Chan, in all his Australian glory.

Felix breathed out, still in disbelief. "Is this a joke?" He asked, chewing on his bottom lip, unsure how to feel about Chan's proposal. Because so much could go wrong. Even within. Especially within. But seeing an opportunity so golden right before his face, Felix could not deny the urge to accept. Chan seemed trustworthy enough, didn't he? He had nothing to gain, nor lose.

How could one man be so selfless in that era?

"It isn't a joke, Felix. I asked that you accompany me so that you could have some fun with your lover. Paris is no place for me to get lost, knowing myself. I will be alright. Maybe have some fun myself." Chan winked and chuckled, lifting a hand to Felix's shoulder and squeezing, gently, reassuring, and nodding. "Go. Meet me back here in two hours, and then we will head back home. You can trust me, Felix. Give it a shot."

A shot. One shot. Felix breathed in, straightening up his posture and brightening his face as if that inhale had some form of supernatural power. He smiled at Chan, before turning on his heels and trotting toward Han Jisung's residence. His Han Jisung. The one who loved him.

+ + + + +

70 rue de N/S

19:00

It just happened. Their lips just met within the confinement of Jisung's apartment, and it just happened. Felix could utter no excuse to avoid their actions, and it would be a lie to claim that he himself did not crave it; did not crave touch, and love, and the folding and marking of their bodies.

The oatmeal cookies in the oven were long forgotten as their skins rubbed and kissed. As their feet tangled and as their tongues explored the depths and crevices of their mouths. Their whimpers ignited flames from their pores, bodies red, hot.

Tears dripped from Felix's temples as he allowed Jisung to take him, only the fine wall of a condom keeping him from the entirety. He groaned, whispering false but loving nothings into Jisung's ear, scratching Jisung's back whilst his legs lifted impossibly higher, pressed onto his chest.

Rhapsody. Felix could not think, could hardly breathe. Jisung was everything yet nothing all at once. The heart that he needed yet struggled to resist rejecting. Jisung was the epitome of perfection; of a lover, customized both inwardly and outwardly for someone who could love him just as much.

Jisung squeaked near Felix's ear as he came, pupils dazed at the back of his head for more than a second as he panted, stilled inside of Felix whose seed littered either of their stomachs. Jisung grinned, cheeks swollen and dyed scarlet, eyes teary and bright and filled to the brim with selfless love, seeking reciprocation, and hallucinating their own finding to protect his heart.

"Je t'aime," he said.

I love you.

"I missed you, us, this, so, so greatly," he carried on in French, reluctant to slide out of Felix, but sensing Felix's discomfort enough to detach himself, and lay beside him, wiping his stomach and then Felix's with a damp cloth from his nightstand. "Thank you for coming to visit me tonight, my love. I couldn't have asked for a better surprise. And the fact that you were willing... thank you." Jisung smiled, his dark hair flattened with sweat on his forehead, disheveled all over.

Embarrassed, suddenly, Felix reached for the blanket, discarded somewhere on the carpet at the foot of the bed, to conceal his nakedness. "My pleasure to spend time with my love," he said, covering up his observation of Jisung's frown at his gesture. He looked around blankly, searching for something to say. Anything to say, before Jisung could inquire about his unease. "The cookies!"

"Why are you so unsettled, love?" Jisung asked too sweetly for Felix's conscience, a hand subconsciously reaching for Felix's arm, starting gentle strokes up and down, goosebumps shooing away the surface of his fingertips. "Was it... not enjoyable? I'm sorry if—"

"No, Jisung. Not at all. I'm just nervous, is all. We haven't made love in a long time and... I fear that my walk... you know... will raise suspicion." Felix told the truth, chewing on his bottom lip, anxious. He'd never thought about that before indulging in sin with his lover. And oh, how Felix regretted that. Regretted everything. "But let us not fret about that, please. Let's make do with the rest of the night before I have to go, yes?"

"Okay," Jisung hummed, standing and discarding the condom encasing his manhood. He slid on the pair of underwear that he wore earlier, heading for the kitchen whilst a properly clothed Felix followed behind. "We could continue reading the novel while we eat. You know I don't read that one unless you're with me."

+ + + + +

rue de Maxident

20:45

Oh, the guilt. The shame. The fear. Felix trembled as he walked toward Chan near the water fountain of which they parted ways earlier. His smile was so thick with strain and ingenuity when he greeted the elder that he could feel the tears forming in the corners of his eyes. Felix's breaths were heavy. His legs were sore already; not yet even morning.

"Chan... Are you ready to leave?"

"Are you alright?" Chan pressed the back of his palm against Felix's forehead, eyebrows furrowed, lips curved into a frown. "You look uneasy. I thought tonight would allow you to feel lighter. What went wrong?"

"I... I'm scared, Chan." Felix could hold in the tears no longer. His voice cracked, betraying his masculinity. And he sniffled, looking down to allow the rebellious tear drops to hit the stained concrete. "I... I lost self-control and did something that I wasn't supposed to do, and now I fear that my father and mother might... might notice."