#maybe i'd colour in the actual kiss someday

[wind-anemone]

Chapter 34: Sick Visit

[felixa2728]

Part 1/? Francois Cevert/Chloe

Helen is an angel

"I learned the song, Jackie," I came into the kitchen. Helen was sitting at the big round table and next to her was a man with big ice-blue eyes. He was incredibly handsome and my breath was taken away. "And this is my niece Chloe," Jackie introduced me and pointed at me. Those blue eyes hit me and, startled, I wanted to lean on the kitchen rail, but it seemed to have left its place and I fell into it. It must have looked funny because the man was laughing, not maliciously but genuinely amused. Helen jumped up and tried to help me up: "Are you OK Chlo?" I nodded, still a little dazed. "I'll give you a cold cloth," with a French accent, the man spoke to Jackie, a little worried, and jumped up. He handed it to me and continued to introduce himself with a very strong French accent: "I'm Francois." His eyes met mine again and our hands touched briefly. "Francois is staying for dinner! Maybe you can play him one of your piano pieces, he can play too." "Sure," I had barely listened but nodded eagerly. "Well then," Jackie pointed. I looked from his hand to him for a moment: "What? Oh, yes.Um the piano is in the living room." I set off and Francois followed me. "How old are you?" he eyed me as I walked. "Seventeen and you?", I opened the living room door and asked, "How do you know Jackie anyway?" "I'm going to ride in a team with him next year. And I'm 25," he replied as I sat down at the piano. I started the Moonlight Sonata and he asked, "Why are you staying with Jackie, so yes you are his niece..." "My mum died when I was born and my dad died in a race. Actually Helen is more involved in that than Jackie too. He's just better with boys," I interrupted him as my hands danced faster and faster over the keys. I didn't know whether he was amazed by the music or my story, but he didn't say anything more and his blue eyes seemed even bigger. "I tried to play this, but wow," so amazed at my music, he sat down next to me and waited for me to finish. He started to play Rondo alla Turca with his right hand. I grinned and took over the right while he started the left hand accompaniment. "You're the guy Jackie keeps talking about... because you drive in Formula 3," I remarked. Francois concentrated on the last part and just mumbled: "Maybe." When we finished the piece, he looked at me, nodded appreciatively and asked: "Not bad. What do you want to do later? Professionally, then." As I strummed the first notes of my favourite piece, claire de lune, I smiled: "You'll laugh at me, but I want to study engineering. "Why should I laugh? Because you're a woman?" he joined in. I shrugged and studied his eyes fixed on the piano. I lost myself for a moment and, ashamed, turned my attention back to the piano: "Claire de Lune is my favourite piece. "So I've heard. You play the other one very faithfully, but you're varying it now." No one had heard or noticed that yet, but it was true. "What about current songs?" he finished the last few moves. I shook my head: "Jackie doesn't like it when I play current songs. Francois shook his head. His fingers fumbled haphazardly for a moment, finding harmony in when a man loves a woman. I couldn't help but start singing. "Oh wow.", he stopped playing in amazement. "What?" "You sing beautifully?" he remarked with raised eyebrows. "And current songs go, too." He laughed in a way that was simply infectious. "And Jackie doesn't like it?" he shook his head in disbelief. Suddenly Paul came rushing in and called for dinner. Francois stood up and I followed him. "So you and Francois are going to tyrell next year? Can you give me a lift next week... I wanted to make some notes on the Chapman front spoilers," I dried the plates Jackie had just washed. Helen took Paul to bed with Francois. Jackie eyed me: "Have you been studying for your performance?" "Yes!" "Play it for me." I went to the piano and played Claire de lune. I didn't mess up once, but I didn't forget to play my variation. "And you want to come next week? You can't play the piece properly!", Jackie began to grumble angrily. I tried to explain that it was

only a variation, but gave up unsuccessfully. With "Yes, Jackie good night" I disappeared into my room and slammed the door behind me and locked it. There was a knock at the door. "I'm tired," I said loudly. But I saw the door knob slide up and turn slightly to the left twice. Helen was the only one who knew this trick and I sat up straight candles. My suspicions came true and Helen entered followed by Francois: "Someone here wanted to say goodbye to you! She smiled and went back into the hall. Francois looked at my walls covered with pictures of cars and pointed at them. I explained: "Helen drew my ideas and the ones I can't draw. He grinned and continued to inspect the works. Francois had unbuttoned the first button of his light blue shirt, rolled up his sleeves and was casually wearing a leather jacket in his left hand. I got up from my bed. "Don't you think your shirt doesn't match your eyes?" I eyed his outfit. He looked at me in confusion: "Oh, the lady wants to know something about fashion now too? For the first time since we started talking, I was afraid I'd said something wrong, so I added shyly, embarrassed: "I noticed it all the time, I'm sorry. "Okay, if you say so," he just laughed and began to unbutton his shirt theatrically. I was taught manners, so I turned away from him with my arms crossed. "Don't you want to see my torso?" he played a slightly hurt undertone. I realised he was playing with me and asked him straight out, "Why are you playing with me?" "you know? I think you're really nice and it was mega cool to play the piano with you," I heard him take a step towards me. "I'm looking forward to seeing you more often now. And I know you're smiling right now." He touched my shoulder briefly with his hand and I turned around. Now with his leather jacket on and closed, he waved goodbye. "See you Francois," I looked into his blue eyes one last time. He turned as he walked away: "Can you..." "Francois, you really have to go!" Jackie rushed over. I closed my eyes a little disappointedly and formed the words "I'm sorry" with my lips. Jackie hurried him out of my room and I was about to close my door when Helen came in. "Please take this with you Jackie..." "Nothing personal," I finished the sentence I'd been hearing from her for a year. I nodded and tried to suppress the sobbing that came up inside me. Helen sat down on the bed with me and put an arm around me. "Could it be that you have a little crush on Francois?" she raised her eyebrows. I looked at her amused and shook my head laughing: "Yeah, sure, he's cute and all, but come on, he's eight years older than me and can't play the Moonlight Sonata." "Your standards are..." she laughed and continued, "And you want to get married someday?" I looked at her and grinned, "Oh, you know, I wasn't really planning to." We both burst out laughing and hugged each other. "Helen pulled a very familiar blue shirt out from behind me, "Does François think differently?" I knew she wasn't serious, but I could see a little concern in her gaze. I told her about the thing with the inappropriate colour and how I had recognised very clearly that Francois was playing with me. Helen listened with interest and added: "When I took Paul to bed with him, he talked about you in a very positive way.""I see." "Is that all?" she asked. "What do you want to hear?" i asked as i took the shirt in my hands. "That I think it's wonderful that you, as an underage girl, seem to want to set me up with an eight year older super hot heartthrob french guy?" She pointed at herself with an expression of mock surprise. "I would never do anything like that." We both laughed and she clarified, "You know I'm only making fun of it to cheer you up and because I don't think you're seriously into him and if you are I'm sorry." "No, no, don't worry," I waved it off. She kissed me on the forehead and said, "Good night. I need to get some sleep." "Good night," I called after her as she walked out the door. I stood up for a moment, locked the door and fell onto the bed. Francois' shirt lay next to me and I

pulled it close. It smelled incredibly pleasant and attractive. With the shirt in my arms, thinking of François and his smell in my nose, I fell asleep.

[that-taters-my-tots]

Uncut Books Lead To Reading Dates Don't You Know

Nick and Gatsby sat at the small table in Nick's little kitchen reading over separate parts in the same newspaper. While Nick looked over the stock sales, Gatsby read the weather report and the headlining news. Sunlight streamed in through the windows and the smell of coffee and buttered toast filled the room. The only noise was the occasional rustling of newsprint.

The couple did this often, every Sunday to be exact. Gatsby would send a servant to get the first copy of the Sunday paper and then he would immediately go across the lawn to Nick's house where they would read it together. It was one of their little habits that the both of them enjoyed immensely. It made them feel like a real couple, because inside either of their houses, that's what they were.

Nick yawned into his hand and then folded up his piece of the paper and laid it on the table. He grabbed his cup of coffee and took a slow sip, “You know, Jay, something has been bothering me for a while.”

Gatsby looked over the top of his section of the paper, he marked his spot with his thumb and then folded it in his lap. “What's that, old sport?”

Nick paused for a moment, “Well, the first time I ever went to one of your parties, I found myself in your library and I've been wondering why you haven't read any of your books.” He could remember clearly the eventful night that party was and the little, drunken owl-eyed man raving about all the books being uncut. “Why have all those books and not read them?”

A faint, embarrassed flush crept into Gatsby's cheeks and he smoothed back his hair which was a nervous habit of his. He remembered a bespectacled man who showed up to his parties already drunk, and always commented on his library in not-so-subtle ways that lead Jay to believe that he gave the books a thorough looking at. It never bothered him that that little man knew that his books was real, but he had never suspected that anyone else had taken the time to notice, let alone Nick. “Ah well- playing the part I suppose. What's the use of a library without any books? Even if I don't take the time to read any of them, it doesn't mean I don't enjoy the thought of having the time to sit down and read one someday.”

Nick gave a nod over his cup, he knew that Gatsby probably had the enough time on his hands to read a hundred books but he didn't say anything about it. They hadn't been together long and Nick was still working his best to chip through Jay's facade and to get to know the real him underneath all the glitz and glamour. “My cousin,” They had stopped saying Daisy's name once they had officially gotten together. “She has a library too, though every single book is just a phone book with a fake cover painted on. I was actually a bit disappointed when she shoved me.”

Gatsby perked up at that last part, “Well,” He started, giving a small shrug. “My library is open to you at anytime.. I'd even be glad to read with you. There's this small nook hidden behind the list shelf with a fireplace and a sofa big enough for us both... Perfectly hidden away.”

Nick flashed a small smile and felt a heat rise in his cheeks. “I'd enjoy that a lot, Jay. Maybe we could go over later this morning?”

“Later? Why, we can go now.”

And so it was settled. The two men finished their remaining coffee and last bites of toast before they set off across the lawn to Gatsby's house.

Even though it was just across the way and that Jay was his boyfriend, Nick couldn't help but feeling undressed besides him. Nick wore a simple white button up and slacks, while Jay wore a fine golden coloured suit.

When they entered through the back door the first thing that Nick noticed was the scent of oranges, on days when there wasn't a party happening for hours on end, the large manner seemed to always smell like oranges. Nick didn't mind though, will all the time he had spent in the house, the smell of oranges had become wonderfully familiar and even somewhat comforting.

They house felt empty as they walked up a grand staircase to the floor that housed the library, the sound of their shoes tapping and the quiet chatter of their voices seemed to echo loudly around them. When they came before the large doors of the library, Jay held one open for Nick with a gentle smirk on his lips. “After you, old sport.”

Nick rolled his eyes and chuckled as he walked in first, when Gatsby entered and the door shut behind them he took a hold of his hand. “What do you feel like reading?” He asked not looking at Jay, but instead at all the towering shelves packed neatly with books around them.

Jay smiled as he watched Nick admire the room, his thumb slowly grazing the back of his hand. “I don't know, I think I might just pick something at random. Let fate pick for me.” He leaned in and placed a quick kiss to Nick's cheek. “Let me show you to the back then,” He said and started walking through the rows of books, zigging and zagging.

It occurred to Nick that the library was actually some type of twisted, literature labyrinth and that without Jay's guidance he probably would’ve been lost between the stacks. “Fate huh?” He murmured, he never really believed in such a thing. “I think I'll do that too.”

They when they arrived at the little nook, as Jay called it, Nick noticed that it looked like the place was completely unused. A plush, navy sofa with dark clawed feet was pushed up against the wall by an empty stone fire place, and there was a dark wooden table that was clear all except for two ivory handled letter openers.

“Do you even use half of the things you have in this house of yours?” Nick asked with a disbelieving smile.

“I don't even use a forth of my things, Nick, let alone half.” Gatsby shook his head.

“You're sure something, you know that?”

“So you've told me,” Jay grinned, he pulled Nick closer towards him. “But, ah, remember, you're with this ‘something’. ”

“I can't deny that,” Nick laughed and kissed Gatsby.

Jay smiled against the kiss, “I thought you wanted to read?” He asked once they pulled away.

“There's a lot of things I want to do in this world.. old sport, you included.”

Gatsby loved Nick, he really did. When he thought about how much that man made his heart soar and his face hurt from smiling he could never figure out what made him fall for Daisy, a woman who had neither have of Nick's personality nor his charm. “We can get to that later,” He raised Nick's hand in his own and kissed his knuckle. “But for now- we're reading.”

Nick nodded with a smile, then the two of them separated into the stacks to find a book.

Gatsby was the first one back to the little nook, he had walked down three rows of books, then finally at the start of the third he closed his eyes and picked one at random. The one he came back with was a small paperback with a powder blue cover. It bore no title, just a name: Hopkins. He sat down on the sofa and grabbed up one of the letter openers to cut the first page. A single flower filled the first page.

By the time Nick returned with his own book, Gatsby was a quarter of the way through his own. He perked up when Nick sat besides him, “What did you find then?”

Then held up a leather bound book, “It's called Revolutionary Sparks. What about you?” The sofa was small, both men sitting snugly next to each other, their knees and elbows touching.

“If mine has a title, I've yet to find it, bit it's a book of poems by someone named Hopkins. I've never been much for poetry but it's rather good.”

Nick peeked over Jay's shoulder to get a look at the book he was reading, “You never struck me as a poetry type of guy.”

“I never knew I enjoyed it, I always thought I hated it because Robert Frost’s work nearly always bored me to death.”

Nick snorted and picked up a letter opener from the table, “I love you, Jay, even if you are something.”

Gatsby grinned, “And I love you, Nick, even though you tease me horribly.”