Chapter Text
Gaelio turns the key and calls out for Ein from the front door—'Ein?'—tentative, a question he lets hang in the air.
There's no reply and his heart aches in his chest because easy going he might be but harbors this deep seated irrational fear of abandonment that's probably his mother's fault, who knows what she was up to when he was just born, they should all get psychoanalyzed, or he should read that damned book again, what was the name, about how evil the nuclear family—
'Ein?' he walks farther into their apartment, the floorboards tired, and he can hear the soft melody of music coming from the bathroom (it's Funeral for a Friend/Love Lies Bleeding so the album must've repeated itself, the record player abandoned on the floor of the bathroom where Gaelio finds it, at the foot of the clawfoot tub where Ein lies in water with eyes closed. Minouchette, up on the mirror shelf, watches over Ein with that intense look that makes Ein nervous.
Gaelio got the tub when they first moved into this apartment as a present for Ein, he said, but mostly himself, so he wastes no time undressing, kicking his suit away on the tiled floor of the bathroom next to the record player Ein insists he not leave in the bathroom but still uses when Gaelio isn't home and slowly—but loudly complaining about how lukewarm almost cold the water is now—gets into the bathtub, water splashing over—par for the course—and waking Ein up who—also par for the course—blushes and fumbles and makes even more water overflow dangerously close to the record player.
'G-Gaelio!' he says averting his eyes, the water suddenly warmer than it should be.
'Ein, it's been four years already!' Gaelio flicks some water towards him.
'Welcome home,' he mumbles, takes Gaelio's hand in his under the water, lets Gaelio place himself between his legs, look back and up at him.
'Run some more hot water.'
Ein does, kisses the top of Gaelio's head. 'How was class?'
'A bore, of course. Met with the mentor, which was awful as usual, she wants to review the progress of my thesis by next Wednesday so I told her I'd be washing my hair that day and dying the next one. How was your day?'
'Gaelio...'
'Ein, it's fine. I won't die, I promise,' he says, looking back and up again, winking. 'I'll show her what I have so far,' he reluctantly agrees to Ein's silent egging, 'it's more than she expects, it should be fine.'
Of course it'd be more, Ein knows, Gaelio would never neglect his work the way he pretends to neglect it, like he grew up with the notion that he had to pretend to be less diligent or smart or hard working as he is or else he wouldn't fit in. Ein wonders why that is.
'How was your day?'
'Fine! We stopped by the patisserie where they make tchareks and I had a couple, they'd made some mchewek for themselves too and let me have one. I'll try to make some for you over the week end so you see, they're really good.'
Gaelio hums, sinking further into the water until his words come out in bubbles 'I'd like that' muffled and almost indistinguishable except Ein knows his words far too well now.
Gaelio wishes he'd open his mouth to say what he's really thinking, what he really wants to say, but he keeps hold of the words so he can share them later, when he's sure of Ein's reaction.
Par for the course too, because he whines about it like a petulant child, Ein pours Palmolive shampoo on his hands then slathers it on Gaelio's hair, who hums underwater again, pleased, tilts his head back to fully enjoy the touch. Ein likes the feeling of running his hands through Gaelio's hair when it's wet, especially now that it's longer because Gaelio hasn't been to the salon in about two months, and the strands on his nape are even long enough to braid into tiny braids. If Ein knew how to braid hair or was able to learn that is. Gaelio tried teaching him, using his little sister's doll as prop but the effort proved useless because Ein for all his skill at manual labor lacks the mindful focus that braiding hair apparently requires. Gaelio just enjoyed watching him focus, biting his tongue, eyebrows knotted, hands fumbling with the doll's hair as if it were the most important task he'd ever been assigned.
After their shared bath, Gaelio wears the cream silk robe he pestered Carta into getting for him during her trip to Japan last year and heats up the food his nounou cooks for them every Tuesday and Thursday despite Ein's protests whenever she isn't around that he or Gaelio could do the cooking themselves and Gaelio should let poor Mme Dupin rest. And who knows maybe someday the stark contrast between their approaches to life, a wide berth between Ein's ship marooned in the middle of the Mediterranean sea and Gaelio's rocks steady and stable and supported throughout all, will close up and Ein won't feel dread at the prospect that this all will eventually come to an end once Gaelio has had its fill of it and Gaelio won't feel dread at the prospect of pressuring Ein into accepting things as they were for him, in comfort, as something he has to get used to and forget the struggles and pains of those like him.
The wide loose sleeve on the right side of his robe is slightly singed from when Gaelio miscalculated and it got caught on the stove burner. Ein bravely jumped in to save him, of course, ruined his brand new shirt but saved both Gaelio's life and his robe.
'Ein, I'm closing the window, it's too cold.' Minouchette at his feet purrs and rubs her sides against him.
'It's winter,' Ein is distracted, seated at the table in front of the open window. He likes the cold air hitting him square in the face, keeps him focused, alert. He doesn't know what for. He's tired and he hates going to bed before Gaelio, he likes it when they go together, their hands linked under the covers, pressed against Gaelio's back, his nose on Gaelio's spine.
Gaelio makes a face at him. 'Did you read the brochure?' it rests on the table in front of Ein.
Ein looks at him for a second then away, his eyes casted down. Logically he's aware there's no shame to be had on one's position in life, it's a place determined by factors outside of one's control, to change it nigh impossible too, That's Just the Way Things Are, most people would say. Independence for his country was hard won and many died to change The Way Things Were so he knows it isn't anything of shame or pride. But still, he's unsure when he speaks.
'I can't read English,' he says rubbing the back of his head—his hair is still damp at his nape.
'Oh,' God, Gaelio, please, 'it says it opened last year, or the year before, and it talks about the rides there, they have roller coasters and ferris wheels and super fast trains to get around the park since it's so big, a Magic Kingdom with animals and an enchanted castle, and a skyway in Tomorrow Land, that's like a glimpse into the future, and a submarine that's like Vingt mille lieues sous les mers where you can see the Florida sea life, and even a Haunted Mansion! I've always wanted to go to one! And a safari in Adventure Land, everything sounds incredible!'
Ein watches him now, the way his eyes are gleaming at the prospect of this park, aimed at children surely.
'And! There's a parade!'
'A parade?'
'With Mickey Mouse! And Donald! I used to read their comics as a kid.'
'Mickey Mouse?'
'Yeah! Doesn't it sound amazing? Let's go this summer, Ein, together.'
'I don't think I can afford a ticket to America, Gaelio.' Or anywhere, really.
'Don't be silly, I'll pay for our tickets of course.'
'I don't wanna impose—'
'Please, it's a resort so we can stay at a hotel there and go to the beach, it'll be like last summer in Marseille, we'll swim and sunbathe and kiss underwater—'
'I almost drowned.'
'That's because you got too excited—'
'Gaelio!'
'Please, Ein, it'll be so fun, I'll hold your hand when you get scared in the Haunted Mansion.'
'Can we talk this over later?'
Gaelio's stunned. It's not often that Ein leaves important discussions for later. It's not often that they leave things hanging, he thinks. He suspects there are things Ein doesn't share, related to things Gaelio might have no understanding of, but for the most part they discuss every little thing.
'Why?'
Ein thinks maybe Gaelio brushed aside their differences as if they could be ignored because Gaelio himself believed they were of no consequence. The life he's been leading seems too like a sketch, something he didn't draw himself, something he didn't even plan, something he never thought possible. It's all borrowed.
'I don't have that kind of money,' Ein doesn't lower his eyes now, he looks straight at Gaelio. 'I'm sorry.'
It sounds final.
'I'm sorry, Ein.' He didn't want to make Ein uncomfortable. He tries again. 'You work so hard, Ein, you can take it easy, let me—' the oven dings and Gaelio turns towards the kitchen again to get the tartiflette.
Ein feels his shoulder ease up, he knows in the end he shouldn't feel this ashamed but he can't shake the feeling that he's taking things he doesn't deserve. That he's not the only one who thinks so either.
Gaelio places their dishes on the table and sits with Ein, still wearing his robe—no wonder he's cold—holds Ein's hand across the table and smiles.
'We don't need to go, Ein. It's okay. We'll do whatever you want.'
'Thank you Gaelio.'
On Wednesdays he hangs back after deliveries and makes lunch for himself and Mr Crank at the apartment on Rochechouart.
He started doing so three years ago when he finally moved out for good—he stopped leaving clothes in the closet of his childhood room pretending he wasn't living with Gaelio when they moved into the apartment they're in now with the clawfoot tub and the high ceilings. Mr Crank gave him a pat in the back and then even hugged him like he they weren't gonna be seeing each other virtually every morning for work.
They sit in silence through the meal, drink a glass of cheap wine, talk about the weather or the news and then Ein says good bye and returns to his own apartment, or goes wait tables if he has a shift. Today he tells Mr Crank about Disney World and all the things Gaelio said were there to see. Mr Crank nods.
'Sounds interesting,' he says, eyes on the food.
'Gaelio was really excited.'
'You goin'?'
'Can't, too expensive.'
'S'okay if you have fun, y'know?'
'I know.'
'You have your savings, too.'
Ein started saving since his mother and him moved to France and he got after-school jobs at factories and a cobbler store around the corner of their apartment block. He kept saving throughout his life always with the idea that he might need to have the money at hand if something happened, if there was an emergency, if another war broke out and he needed to—
'I do,' but that's not what they're for.
Mr Crank nods. He doesn't say anything else about it but Ein knows what he's after.
After lunch he does the dishes and carries himself over to the bureaux tabac until closing time.
Already from behind the door to their apartment he can hear Gaelio and Carta's voices punctuated by curt remarks in McGillis'.
Last year when Carta returned from Japan the three of them got together—at Gaelio's insistence because he's one to hold things together—mostly because McGillis' father had been in the papers, was now in jail, and Gaelio didn't have the heart to leave him alone. He'd joked about how they'd forgive him because, all in all, McGillis had no other friends, had never had them, despite the fact that they all knew it wasn't really a joke. And McGillis didn't apologize because, well, he would never, but Gaelio didn't really need that to forgive, Ein learned soon enough. In different times his soft heart would've been a hindrance, his ability to see good in anyone and everyone a weakness and not something Ein admired, was grateful for.
He takes his time coming in, though. To this day he still feels an intruder when it's the three of them and he comes in no matter how at ease Gaelio makes him feel, no matter how seamless Gaelio makes it all look. And he doesn't want to go in wearing his woolen hat and his just-a-tad-oversized coat—it's warmer that way—and his large and long woolen scarf wrapped twice around his neck and his mittens and have Gaelio call him cute or adorable. So he starts shedding the winter layers well before he even digs in his pockets for the keys. Then he walks through the thick mist of smoke that's covering the hallway to the apartment and finds Gaelio and his friends in the living room, Joe Dassin on the record player, and food waiting for him on the table.
'Welcome home, Ein!' Gaelio tells him, excited, his face red from the mulled wine. He stands up to kiss Ein, his lips and skin warm against Ein's cold lips. 'How was your day?'
'Fine, Mr Crank says hello,' he waves at McGillis at Carta from where he stands, locked in by Gaelio.
'Hello Ein,' they echo his sentiment.
'How was the thesis?'
Gaelio's smile is impossibly brigther, wider. His nose crinkles, cheeks redden further.
'Great, I really had done more than enough.'
'You're amazing, Gaelio,' Ein smiles at him, filled with pride.
'You guys are sickening.'
'Your face is sickening,' Gaelio says turning around. 'Ein grab your food and join us, I'll pour you wine.'
Lulled by the warmth of the food and the wine and the slow cadence of conversation, Ein falls asleep, rests his head on Gaelio's lap, who strokes his back while him, Carta and McGillis lower their voices a notch. Minouchette comes to curl up next to him. Only when he's asleep does she give her the affection she dotes on Gaelio every waking moment.
Before Ein arrived he'd asked them for their opinion and both of them had of course given it but also pretended as if they didn't really have a right to say anything, as they always did. As if they still thought he didn't catch on to their game where they offered their brutally honest opinion on Gaelio's thoughts and then acted like well it's not like we know that much anyway, as if arrogance didn't define both of them in different but clear ways.
The dangling conversation signals their time to leave, and they do so without being quiet despite Gaelio's fussing over it, in a non quiet manner.
'Are you gonna carry him to bed in your arms?'
'Of course!'
'You're hopeless. See you,' Carta says, putting on her big fur coat.
'Don't break your back,' McGillis smiles at him with faux concern. 'Good night.'
'Just leave.'
He closes the door behind them then as he said picks Ein up from the sofa and carries him to bed, Minouchette following close behind. Ein wakes up when he's almost in the bed, though, enough to put on his winter pyjamas and curl himself up under the covers and falls back asleep.
Gaelio wakes before Ein does and kisses him awake, both of them covered up to their noses.
'Mm have the day off today, Gaelio.'
'I know, it's 8 already.'
'Oh,' Ein rolls away, starts pulling the covers back, he doesn't feel like waking up but he doesn't like staying in bed late. Gaelio's hand stops him though. Gaelio likes to discuss things in bed, the more important they are the better.
'Ein, I've been thinking.'
'Hmhm.'
'The mcheweks you made on Sunday were really good.'
'Oh, thank you Gaelio.'
'And you said there's only that one patisserie where they sell tchareks but nothing else?'
'Um, yeah.'
'Well, why don't we set up our own?'
'Our own... patisserie?'
'Yes! With Algerian goods! Mcheweks and tchareks and griweche and all that.'
'Griweche?'
'I found a book about it at the library.'
'Oh.' Ein can feel his heartbeat all over his body, under his skin.
'What do you say? It'd be nice, right? We'd have our own place.'
'That sounds nice, Gaelio.'
'But?' Gaelio recognizes the tone. It's coming.
'But I don't think it's something people want to buy.'
'Why not?'
'I don't think they care.'
'It's because they don't know! They'll feel grateful afterwards! They could've gone their entire lives not knowing how good those pastries are, and we brought it to them.'
'I think only you would think that way,' Ein smiles, he's so warm here, under the covers with Gaelio.
'There are tons of people out there who'd think like that, I promise.'
'Thank you Gaelio,' Ein kisses him softly, clutching his face.
'That's a yes?' Gaelio mumbles into the kiss.
'I don't know. I wanted to tell you we can go to Disney. I—'
'Really?' Gaelio's voice is like a yelp, a childish excited yelp.
'I have some savings, I think it's fine to use them for that. It's okay to have fun.'
'It is,' Gaelio says, kissing him again.
'But in the long run, not now, later, I think that's a good idea. I'd like that,' Ein admits, his smile soft. A little sad. He really never thought any of this would ever be possible. And maybe Gaelio's hopeful and eager innocent soul is right, maybe people really will look past their—themselves, and feel grateful, to be tasting pastries that come from Algeria. It's not just pretty words. They could be more.
'Thank you, Ein,' Gaelio says, his smile maybe a little sad too.
'For what?'
'You make me happy,' or more like you make me feel like a better person, like trying to be a better person every day.
'You do too.'
Minouchette jumps on the bed to let them know she hasn't been fed yet.
Gaelio feeds her while Ein fixes the coffee and they both think they're grateful there's people like each other in the world and they're in the same place now. And later too.