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

Chapter 12

Brendon knew that Jon knew. Jon knew why he was sulking. He knew why Brendon didn't feel like going out to see Paris the past couple days. But Jon wasn't one to intrude. He had put his two cents in at the Eiffel Tower. It was up to Brendon whether or not he'd take his advice.

So on Monday morning, they packed up their bags and said goodbye to their beautiful hotel room. Brendon ran his fingers across the keys of the piano, a silent thank you and farewell.

He would miss Paris, for more reasons than one.

The morning was bitter cold. Autumn had taken the air by force, and chilled their noses and ears. They stood at the edge of the street with a few of their fellow travelers.

It had been a little over a week. Brendon didn't want to leave... but he had to. He wished the bus would come already. Cold turkey. Like a bandaid. He closed his eyes and willed the wheels on the bus, wherever it was, to roll faster.

He was stupid. Stupid and reckless. He slept with a guy he barely knew. A guy he'd have to leave days later. How could he be so... stupid.

His mind ran though every reason he should just leave this all behind, and leave it to the beautiful memories he'd always carry with him. But to be fair, his mind also ran through every reason he shouldn't leave.

Ryan's smile. Ryan's laugh. Ryan's accent. The way he spoke French at random times in his English sentences. The way his voice flowed like liquid off his tongue. The way he felt like liquid under Brendon's fingertips.

The reasons to stay were more than the reasons to leave.

But he'd blown Ryan off already. He'd probably sent bad signals by not calling Ryan back after Friday. It was probably too late.

He thought it was his mind playing cruel jokes when he heard his name being called. Even more of a joke when Jon nudged his elbow. He looked up at Jon, to see him nod his head across the street.

He followed his eyes to see Ryan. Ryan, standing at the other side of the street, trying to catch his breath. Ryan, with his hair a mess from nervous pulling and eyes sunken from a sleepless night.

"Ryan?" Brendon asked, confused.

Ryan looked for cars, and crossed the street in a sort of half-jog. "Brendon. S'il vous plaît. Don't go. Reste avec moi. I..." He choked out spurts of words between breaths. Brendon could hardly keep up.

"You... want me to stay?"

"Oui. Reste avec moi. Stay with me. Please. I can't let you leave without telling you."

Brendon's voice was quiet, hardly anything. Too afraid to let Ryan hear. "Tell me what..."

"Je t'aime."

"You do?"

Ryan nodded, and swallowed past his dry throat.

"I didn't know if it was too late..." Then, it made sense to Brendon. Reste avec moi. He remembered the words as they fell off Ryan's lips in the heat of the moment. He was too out of it then to make sense of it. Stay with me. Ryan wanted him to stay. He loved him too. For a fleeting second, he felt terrified. What had he gotten Ryan into?

Ryan was so afraid of being small, and so afraid of the world around him; whose world was too big for him. Brendon remembered Ryan's words. Ryan's worries of trust.

He realized then, that there had always been something about Paris that he never had found anywhere else. Something that made it special... made it feel like home. He realized then, that the something he'd spent so long trying to place... was Ryan.

So Brendon took a breath and gathered every French word he knew. "Vouz avez tojours... été mon monde. Je n'ai que vous venez de trouver." He hoped Ryan knew what he meant. He hoped Ryan remembered Port-Neuf.

Ryan's eyes were disbelieving. Brendon knew his mind. He knew his insecurities. Brendon knew his weaknesses and pushed past them without a care.

"Je t'aime trop."

There was no time. There was no time between his words and Ryan's actions. Ryan took his bags and set them aside, pulling Brendon closer and kissing him firmly on the lips.

There was no time for words. There was no space for them. There was nothing in the world that could make them remember where they were, and why they were there. They forgot about busses, they forgot about Jon. They forgot about anything and everything that wasn't each other.

And now it was too late. Too late to turn back, not that they'd ever dream of doing so. Brendon's mind swims of plane cancellations. There was nothing in the world that could tear him away from Paris now. He fell in love with Paris, and a certain boy that stole his heart there.

He knew it was cliché. But some of the best things in life are. They don't have to be generic. But a little cliché never hurt anyone.

Ryan looked softly at Brendon's smile. And he knew then, that he wasn't small or alone in Brendon's eyes. And that's all that mattered. He'd finally found where he belonged in the world, and that was right there. Standing next to Brendon in the world's most beautiful city. The place they could both call home.