Le Monde Dans Vos Yeux // The World In Your Eyes

Chapter 9

The three made it back to the café around two in the afternoon. Spencer took his break and introduced himself to Jon. The two made easy conversation about... whatever it was. Brendon was too busy talking to Ryan: joking about jobs, crappy supervisors, and lame best friends.

At one point, Spencer looked over and smiled, asking Ryan for a word.

Brendon leaned back in the chair, and watched Ryan from a few feet away. Spencer had pulled Ryan aside to speak muted mumbled French, far too deep in accent for him to eavesdrop. Spencer's eyes flicked to him for a second, before fleeing back to Ryan with a grin spreading. Ryan scratched the back of his head, but Brendon couldn't quite see his face. He imagined a blush rising to match the shade of his shirt. Spencer laughed lightly and made a face at Ryan that Brendon could only interpret as the same kind of look you'd give a toddler who was being exceptionally adorable.

Ryan shook his head and spoke loud enough for Brendon to hear. "Tais toi, Spencer." Ryan made a face back at Spencer and turned for Brendon. "Want to go for a walk?"

And he really didn't have to be asked twice. Brendon was up out of his seat before the imaginary question mark was placed at the end of Ryan's sentence. "Sure."

The sky outside had changed since they entered the café. The once burning afternoon sun was now hidden behind thick, dark thunderclouds. The light seemed to come from nowhere. Not from the sun, obviously. Not from streetlights or passing cars' headlights. It was a light that came from nowhere and everywhere. Existing only because it could. Only because the afternoon let it.

Ryan liked the way Brendon looked almost softer. No harsh shadows casting shapes across his face, no squinting eyes trying to shield themselves from the light. Just an easy, comfortable smile, hardly there at all, but playing lightly at the corners of his lips and eyes like it's there, just dormant and waiting.

They started walking slowly down the sidewalk. "So, did you like the Eiffel Tour?"

Brendon nodded. "Yeah. It's really gorgeous up there." Ryan returned his nod.

"I'm sure it is." Small talk felt comfortable. Not awkward like it was with many other people. Just filler in the conversation when there was nothing better to say.

Ryan wondered why he felt so at ease around Brendon. He wouldn't go so far as to say he trusted Brendon... but it was the closest he'd gotten yet. But why did the breeze carrying Brendon's cologne seem more important than this week's paycheck? Why did every song remind him of his laughter? And why did he care so much, if he'd barely met the boy?

The aforementioned breeze was nothing less than prominent now, catching Ryan's senses in a web of... something. Whatever it was, Paris had never felt so alive than under the thick rain clouds and autumn wind carrying more than just air and leaves.

Truth is, Ryan didn't ask Brendon out to walk with him on a whim. Spencer had made sure he acknowledged this.

"How long are you staying in Paris?" The question loomed in the air like the threatening, dark clouds above. Ryan watched the sidewalk pass under his shoes despite the soles of the rubber scuffing across it in protest.

Brendon seemed to question for a moment, and held up his fingers to count. "Been here... six days? It's Friday, and the bus leaves Monday at four."

Of course Ryan knew Brendon would have to leave for America soon. He just... had really hoped to get to know his new friend better. "Looking forward to being home in Vegas?"

Brendon shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, sure it will be nice to see all my friends again, and get back into a routine..."

Ryan watched the cars pass, and wondered why he had to go and kill the mood by asking such a question.

"But there's some sense of adventure here in Europe. Maybe it's because it's different than I'm used to, but especially here..." He gestured to the orange-leaf trees and intricate buildings. "In Paris, I feel like there's something here that's not anywhere else."

All he could do was nod. What was he supposed to say? Don't leave? Stay in Paris? Stay with me? A simple nod of the head said so little, but it was all he would allow. There were no confessions to give.

His eyes fell back down to the cobblestone, now speckled with dark spots here and there, with no particular structure or thought to their placement. He looked up and stared at the clouds.

Brendon followed his eyes upwards to be met with a drop on his cheek. "I was wondering if I'd get to see the rain in France."

But France had more than rain in store for them. Soon, as if turning on a faucet, the rain started pouring.

"Let's, uh..." Ryan pointed to a tree on the side of the road with branches still thick with orange and brown leaves, just barely fit for shelter. He took Brendon's wrist and pulled him out of the rain.

"Well that was surprising." Brendon laughed and shook his head, sending beads of rain in every direction.

"Very surprising," Ryan agreed.

The dash through the newly forming mud had left them soaking. Their jeans were heavier and dripped at the bottom onto their shoes. Ryan's once bright red v-neck was now a dark velvet color, clinging to his frame like it needed the security, showing every toned muscle in his chest and stomach.

Brendon remembered how small Ryan had looked from his view at the Eiffel Tower, his body merely a speck in the city. Now Ryan stood before him with drenched clothes and amused lips. Full, and there, and watching him with calculating eyes.

Ryan subconsciously reached up to brush away a strand of wet, clingy hair from his face, and Brendon heard, I'm nervous. Ryan had tried to work up the courage to do something about the strange feeling in his stomach the night after Port-Neuf. Brendon bit his lip, and rolled his shoulders a little, somewhere between a shrug and a stretch. To Ryan, it sounded more like, Don't be.

One, two, three seconds of hesitation, and Ryan steps forward, as awkward as if he was a pre-teen again, not knowing what to do at all. And he's glad Brendon gets the hint, as he feels fingers lace with the back of his hair to pull him closer, even closer than he ever expected to get to Brendon. He presses their lips together in the softest way he could manage, there, but hardly.

It seemed fitting, in a way, that the only other sound Brendon could hear over his heart was the pounding of rain on the ground. And he realized then, that every time he was with Ryan, his senses blurred. He could see nothing but Ryan's smile, hear nothing but Ryan's thickly accented voice, and feel nothing but the slight brush on the back of his hand where their skin met and the lingering numbness it left. Now, with the persistent thump thump of the rain in tempo with their hearts, he felt it perfect in their own amusing and oddly cliché way.

It's strange to Brendon, how reserved Ryan was being. Very softly touching their lips with his hands almost on Brendon's waist, and to Brendon, it sounds more like, Can I trust you?

Something just clicks in Brendon's mind. It's like he's supposed to be here. Right here, in the pouring rain and... Ryan... feels so right against his skin, he can hardly maintain the subtly anymore. He inhales sharply, and pushes against Ryan's lips, leaving no more room for hesitance. It sounds more like, Always.

He slips his tongue to touch Ryan's lip, testing to see how Ryan would react. But Ryan was already with him, accepting Brendon and bringing him closer still, every inch of their bodies touching.

The kiss isn't innocent, and it's isn't intimate. They both just let it be what it is; sounding a lot like three words neither of them would admit was running through their heads.

A loud crash came from above, and made them jump. Ryan laughed, amused, at Brendon who was clutching his shoulders tightly. He smiled, and Brendon chuckled at himself. Scared by thunder. What was he, a girl? They were still pressed close. Close enough for Ryan to press another kiss to Brendon's smile.

The rain still wasn't letting up. Worse now, even. There was a rustling in the tree above, a squirrel, probably. The bothered branch then let its load of water fall onto Ryan's head.

He yelped at the temperature shock, and shook his head, absolutely soaked. Brendon took in the water droplets on Ryan's face, arms, neck, and Ryan shivered.

"Getting cold," he said, and Brendon nodded.

"Want to go back to the café then?"

"Sure." Ryan put his arm around Brendon, pretending it was just for the warmth, but Brendon knew better, and returned the gesture by lacing their fingers together.

The pouring rain hadn't done them any favors on the way back, but left them dripping by the time they pushed through the door of the café, shivering and clinging to each other.

Spencer had finished his shift a while ago, and was conversing with Jon at one of the open tables. He saw the two come in and beamed.

"Génial," he said, leaning back in his chair.

Jon looked up too, eyes widened. "Aren't you two freezing?"

Brendon looked at him incredulously. "Obviously. Where's my hoodie?" Jon motioned to the blue and brown hoodie draped over a chair next to him. "Thanks," he said, and pulled the dry fabric around Ryan's shoulders.

Ryan's face was priceless, Spencer thought. Surprised, and a little disbelieving, but he took in the warmth of the dry fabric, and inched toward Brendon for warmth.

Jon and Spencer looked at them, then to each other, smiling smugly and laughing lightly.