Paris

Kai Qiu

September in New York

The cold September day made them realize that school was finally over, and that this was the year they were not going back. Or – at least, he wasn't going back. Henry's life plan was to live off his parent's money – travel the world, maybe some poetry in Paris. Anything that didn't involve school. He made a note of avoiding school at all costs, and that even made him rethink his liking of children. Although, ultimately he decided that, that wasn't fair – to the both of them.

And Sasha's life plan was to go to college. She wanted a degree in Biochemistry, and he couldn't support her. Emotionally. Sure he could have doled out the money if he wanted to – but he didn't want to. Instead, the money that he knew deep down should have gone towards her education, went towards a one way ticket to France – or more accurately, Paris. Just for the rest of the month.

It was his chance to take a breather and decide what was in store for the both of them.

Or maybe just him – he was beginning to wonder weather their relationship would be able to withstand the test of time, school, and travel. His bags packed with everything he needed except his toothbrush and small stuff like that, stuff he would pack last minute, his taxi waiting outside, an impatient cab driver taking the final puffs from his cigarette, and Sasha's broken gaze staring at both him and his bags, the image fragmented in her brain and in pieces in the floors of her mind.

She steadily rose from where she was, her hair drifting past her shoulders in her attempt to keep herself more feminine – mainly to keep Henry from going to Paris, a plan that didn't work out too well, and her arms bruised from their small squabble the night before in which he hit her – immediately regretting it. But drunk Henry was an abusive Henry – she had known that all her life, but now it was the time she had to face it.

Inside her heart she wanted to plead for him to stay, but she knew better then that, so instead she let him go. “Goodbye,” she whispered, “remember me when you see those French girls, and when you eat all that good food.” She gave him a weak smile – her lips a dull pink let him know that she had other things on her mind then make-up.

He almost felt like a horrible human being for leaving – almost. Both of them knew that him going away would mean a temporary pause in their relationship – but was it temporary? Or would it last forever.

That was the thing that scared Sasha the most. The fear of loosing Henry, because he was the one thing she loved more then anything and she would hate to see him dead. Or out of her life.

“Goodbye,” he replied. He was doing a good job holding in his tears, he might have been a poet but he had no intention showing his feelings right now. It was almost to much for him to handle, but he had to stick it out. He embraced Sasha into a full bodied hug and he kissed the side of her mouth, “See you in October. And, good luck with school. First semester is the hardest. ”

“Mhm.” Her soft hair was following her as she walked away from the door. His bags fully packed, he exited the first floor condo. He shut the door, and when he went to lock it, he dropped the key. He let it lay their on top of the leaf as he walked away. The cab driver started up the car, Henry put his luggage into the back seat, and he slipped into the passenger seat.

“J.F.K. Please.” Henry pressed his back into the broken leather seat, and with an affirmative nod from the driver, he was off.

* * *

December in New York

The plain landed right on time, two months after it was originally supposed to land. The early morning of Christmas Eve cast a foggy spell on the world, and although the snow fell to the ground in simplistic formations, New York did not slow down. The people were busier ever, the streets were more crowded then ever, and the coffee shops more prosperous then usual. Sasha had a new life, a new man, and a new insight in how her future would play out, and according to her it did not include Henry. This was for the better. Because Henry had moved on from Sasha the moment he met William, and by the time he came back to New York he no longer cared for Sasha. It was almost scary, but he managed.

All was well. The second the wheels landed on the dark pavement leading up to the building, Henry felt his stomach grumble inside his body, a feeling he had begun to grow used too in the lover's city of Paris. He had finally figured out why Sasha never wanted to see him in half of the clothes he owned – they were hideous. He had finally figured out why he was constantly stressed – to much to do, to little time. And most importantly he had figured out why he never thought clearly – his mind was blocked.

And although it would sound repetitive to say this – it might be important to know that the minute Henry landed in Paris he knew that he had to do what he came to do – and that was sit around in coffee shops and write poetry.

If he had come with someone he loved, he could have spent his extended month making love in a cold hotel room while lights flickered on and off outside, or he could have eaten an extravagant dinner at or around the Eiffel tower. But he did none of those things. At least, not alone. When he went to the hotel for the first night and the manager saw a lonely American, the manager thought “the world must be ending.” And quickly he was sent to a room with a queen sized bed, an adequate mattress and a window overlooking the grayed buildings that could depress even the happiest of clowns.

The first week was filled with dark poetry about life and what fills it's dark corners. Each twist and turn and each tear. The papers he wrote on had coffee rings, and the pens he wrote with bleed through the paper making the blue words apparent on both sides. All was going calmly. He had met William. The man who stood behind the counter at the cafe had begun to recognize Henry as a regular, the poetry his brain crafted was now becoming interesting – even to him, the writer, and most importantly he felt comfortable in his own skin.

He started changing up his hair. He had stuck with one style for such a long time, change was in order. He figured that while he was there with no one he knew, and people he would probably never see again, that this was his chance to be the guy he never could have been had he stayed in New York. His hair growing out and newly bleached, he walked the streets radiating with confidence – William by his side. He would later claim that William was the reason he stayed the extra two months, that was a lie – in fact he didn't really know why he did. The most probable answer was that he had become the person he wanted to be, and all was well.

* * *

September in Paris

William had dark hair that fell effortless over the side of his head. His eyes – the color of a stormy sea gazed over the vase at Henry. He wore a white shirt with a pink rose painted on the back, and a pair of dark wash jeans. The moon – high in the sky, illuminated the boys. Henry sat at a table not far from William, engrossed in his paper. Crossing out words and adding verses to his poem. He took a carefully calculated sip of coffee, and glanced up. In that one look he saw William and his awkwardly shaped face and he noticed that it fit him perfectly. He didn't look like the absolutely perfect looking boy one might expect to find, rather he looked normal. Not extraordinarily beautiful or ugly. In fact, he was so ordinary that the only thing about him that stood out was his shirt.

Henry's face began to turn red and he looked back down at his paper – when he looked up again William was gone.

For some reason, he felt something – something odd and alien to him. For the first time in a very long time he felt like he was falling for this mysterious boy – and in one look he was gone. Somewhat disappointed Henry put an “X” through the whole poem and turned the page to start anew. Sensing a shadow looming over him, once again he looked up and into the stormy eyes of the mysterious boy who had captured his eye.

“William,” he said to Henry, extending his arm in an indecisive manner.

“Henry,” the New Yorker replied, shaking the other man's hand and cautiously letting it go. “Sit.”

Henry didn't know what compelled him to feel comfortable around this complete stranger, maybe it was the kindness in his face – the kind of kindness that made him more ideal, or maybe it was just because William had no judgment in his eyes. This was the fresh start that Henry had wanted from the beginning.

Then Will began to talk. His voice smooth and his English near perfect. And Henry joined in the conversation, forgetting home, forgetting Sasha, forgetting Paris. Remembering, only the emotions that he had buried six feet under when he had made a commitment.

Henry felt a flood of emotions that he barely recognized: compassion, adventure, spontaneity, love. Underneath the heterosexual mask that Henry had placed forth front was a homosexual one, ready to shine in the city of love.

* * *

October in Paris

William leaned over, carefully making sure not to stick his arm in his plate of spaghetti, and put his hand on Henry's cheek. Henry's stomach fluttered slightly, and he leaned over and William placed his lips on Henry's. His initial reaction was to pull away, but he was frozen and scared so he let him kiss on. When William finally pulled away he bit his lips shyly and looked at the other man expectantly.

“What?” William asked in his smooth voice. He caressed Henry's face and he flinched. “I'm sorry.” Will whispered, “really, I am.”

“No – it's okay.” Henry replied. He felt ever so slightly guilty for letting William kiss him. He had Sasha back in New York, and he was not gay. Absolutely not. He was just trying something new. Yeah, that was it. Henry shook off his feelings and looked up into Will's eyes, searching for some hint of betrayal or any secret that Henry should know and saw that William had completely opened his heart to him. Henry sighed and looked out at the Eiffel Tower, staring at it's magnificence. “It's beautiful.”

“Yes, it is,” William replied, sticking a mouthful of food into his mouth. “I live here and I still can't get over how magnificent it is.”

Henry looked down at his hands, they were slightly cold and they shivered in the night. “I want to change my hair,” he said out of the blue.

William gave him a knowing smile, opening his mouth, he said, “Finally.”

“Hey, what is that supposed to mean?” Henry asked the other boy, but he just shrugged and looked away from him mysteriously.

William sighed, looking into the darkness and the stars, “What do you want to do to it? Make yourself blonde? Grow it out?”

“Yeah. To the blonde thing.”

He snorted and ordered more wine. The two sat eating in silence for a moment, and then William got a devious look on his face, Henry looked up at him – questioningly, but he just shook his head. Giving William one more chance to speak, Henry paused, then he opened his mouth, and William shushed him. He closed his eyes and motioned for the other boy to do the same and all at once an incredible feeling of peace washed over them.

Henry wanted to fall asleep. But of course, William could not let that happen. As far as new experiences would go, this would definitely be a big checkpoint for the New Yorker, and as far falling in love, William had climbed the highest he had ever gone. So high that their mutual break up in December would crush him. The higher you climb, the further you have to fall. A story Sasha would learn the ward way.

* * *

October in New York

The leaves were turning orange and yellow and beginning to fall on the ground, stores began selling various Halloween items, and Sasha had one thing on her mind – school. Actually, that wasn't true, Henry was also on her mind, flitting in and out every now and then. She had recently taken interest with one of the guys in her class – Sam. He had chestnut brown eyes, and similar hair. He looked like Henry, but slightly more masculine and defined in a “I have muscles and love them” type of way.

And from the way things were playing out, it looked like he had taken interest in her.

It was funny actually, weeks of mindless flirting and then a big date, it was odd to Sasha. She hadn't done anything like it for years. It was just Henry in her life for 5 years and then Sam. Things were changing, almost too fast. But it was alright, once she had calmed down and learn to just accept the ride she liked it. The attention, the love, the swag! It was like she was a real woman again – and not just a feminist woman, an independent woman with an independent man, who at some level was co-dependent. But then again, so was she.

There first date was not at a French restaurant. She insisted this. In fact, since the day Henry had left for Paris, she would have never set foot in a French related restaurant again. French fries, however, did not count. There first date was at an Italian restaurant – similar, but not similar enough to make her ruin her own date by talking about Henry.

One date led to another which made things go from platonic to interesting. And before you know it the only time she ever thought about Henry was when she saw the photo of him on her wall. And then she took it down.

* * *

November in New York

Sam was not to last. In fact, soon after their small relationship she had broken it off with him. Things were moving too fast too quickly. She was intent on making up for all the time she lost with Henry, or at least, that's how she convinced herself that what she was doing was justified.

Ironically, the next boy she set her sights on was a year younger then her and his name was Justin. They lasted long enough that they had sex, multiple times, but things did not last much longer after that. The weather was starting to get colder then ever before, and she learned to dress more fashionably. And since winter was fast approaching, it was the perfect time for her to learn to choose coats and boots that would go with what she wore.

Classes became more challenging, and half the year hadn't even passed. But I guess this was just a way to rat out the weak students. In fact, a thin haired girl had just dropped out the week before, and this made Sasha feel better in a really bad way.

Then around the corner came girls night and she was so happy that she was getting new friends and new things to do on a Friday night. Clubs became popular with her, and she took up drinking – something she hadn't dared to do previously because she was under aged (and still was).

Life was good, and then one DUI later and bail was a necessity. Although this slowed down the party (substantially) two drinks later, and the dancing commenced. Madonna blaring through the speakers, and glasses of Sex on the Beach scattered across the table.

Alec was her next boyfriend, and for a short time (while she was with Alec) she was doing Adrian, but then they kinda stopped, and she remained faithful to Alec for the remainder of the month. All the while her parents stood idle by, wondering what happened to the nice Henry boy, and although they raised many questions, none would be answered for a very long time.

* * *

November in Paris

He started wearing berets. Skin tight clothing, and eyeliner – subtle eyeliner – but eyeliner none the less. He started holding hands with William more and more, and the more William looked at the new Henry, the more he liked him. The snapshot of Henry would have looked like this: Black beret, blonde hair peaking out, subtle charcoal eyeliner, just enough to make his eyes pop, a black and white tight shirt that showed every curve and every muscle, and skinny jeans – that somehow – actually looked like they were meant to be worn on a guy.

Although money was starting to run low, now that he had William he had a little bit of support – at least for a little while.

“Will you stay till the end of December?” He asked Henry, in his sexy French accent that even Henry had a hard time saying no too.

“Sure, why not – I mean, I have nothing better to do, so why don't I just spend all my time with you!” Half sarcastic, half not – he really meant what he said. It might not have sounded like he did, but – he did.

Time spent with William flew by. Tours of the city, and places around it. Going to some of Williams favorite shows, and restaurants and cafes. Visits to Williams family, if only for a quick hello. Traveling to the countryside for sights of the French country. And visits to McDonald's to taste French Cuisine. Moments turned to hours, but hours were good because Henry and William felt whole together. Before with Sasha, Henry only felt like two independent souls connected, and here with William, he felt like one soul. One heart. One love.

* * *

December in Paris

Days flew by faster then they came. Henry and William kissed, and hugged, and held hands, and had sex. Sex (for the first time) with a man was odd for Henry, but two months later it felt almost natural. And the fact that he had to let William be the dominant bothered him sometimes. But most of the time it turned him on. It was nice not having to be alpha male all the time. For William, it wasn't anything new, but he was still a stranger to the vast concept of it.

Time ticked, and at points they had nothing to do. So they picked up art. And they started painting pictures to go with Henry's poetry. Pictures that they thought would one day end up in the Louvre. Henry – once back in New York – would try to publish it together in a beautiful book.

Alas the time came that Henry decided he had to go back to his home. It was the end of December, and he would have loved for more then anything that William go with him, but that was a trip best saved for later. And besides, the person you are on vacation never translates well over to the person you are in real life. So at the airport, Henry said goodbye to William – probably the last time they would ever see each other. They exchanged phone numbers, and addresses, and pictures to keep with themselves, if they wanted.

Right before Henry would go to board on his plane, he and William shared one final embrace. A tight hug that could have gone on way to long if they wanted it too. Then a kiss, and a goodbye later and Henry was sitting in his seat, staring out of the window at the receding world as he lifted off into the air and flew too another part of the Earth. And although a new chapter of his life was starting – it was alright. And you know what? All was well.

The End.