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"Come on, go kiss him," Charles spoke with a playful grin, and Pierre could hear the slyness drip from his lips.
"What?" Pierre widened his eyes, for the first time relieved no one could - hopefully - understand them.
"Come on! He's cute, and he speaks English."
"I cannot just show up and kiss him."
"Go talk to him!"
"In what language, you crétin?"
"The language of love. It's universal."
"Oh my God, you're disgusting." Pierre scoffed. "Why don't you do it?"
"You look like his type, and I am sure you can convince him with your pretty eyes."
"Did you just call my eyes pretty?" Pierre raised his eyebrows, an amused expression on his face.
"Don't push it, Gasly."
Pierre laughed. "So, you're really not kissing anyone tonight?"
"Nope, I promised Charlotte. Besides, I can always kiss you after you learn it tonight. So, move your ass. You'd do us both a favor."
"Wait, wait, I haven't agreed to this. You want me to kiss you?"
"I mean, wouldn't be the first time, would it?"
Pierre had rarely ever wanted to slap his friend's grin off of his face so hard.
He glanced back at the boy at the counter, talking to one of the baristas. He sat on the tall stool, one leg extended, barely making it on the ground, the other danced to the rhythm of the loud techno music on the footrest.
The man threw his head slightly back anytime he laughed, allowing the dim purple lights of the place to catch and mix beautifully with the silver of his nose piercing. As he listened to the beautiful - Pierre had to admit it - girl on the other side of the counter, his hand made his way to scratch the beard on his chin. The gesture brought Pierre's attention to the man's sculpted arms and to how well the white t-shirt sleeve hugged his bicep.
Needless to say, Pierre couldn't stop himself from staring at the beautiful stranger.
"Oi, calamar, you're drooling."
Pierre laughed at his friend, taking his eyes off the man at the counter for a second just to roll his eyes.
"What if he's straight?"
"A good-looking man that shows up to a bar and is not surrounded by girls?"
"Maybe that's his girlfriend." His chin raised to point at the brunette barista.
"She has a ring, he doesn't."
"Affair?"
"Then he wouldn't mind kissing you as well."
"What's up with you today, Monsieur je-sais-tout?"
"What do you mean? I've always been the smarter one out of the two."
Pierre scoffed. “Since you're so smart, remind me. Why am I your friend?”
“Best friend,” Charles corrected, simultaneously raising a finger to tap Pierre's nose tip.
Pierre tried rolling his eyes even though he couldn’t stop a smile from appearing on his lips.
“I need a drink.”
“Great! You can go talk to the guy now!”
“That’s going to be so awkward,” Pierre dragged his words, exasperated.
“Come on, go!” Charles pushed him in the crowd, towards the counter, earning a glare from his best friend and a giggle from a few girls around them. Charles pressed his lips in a thin smile and raised his hand at them before taking his phone out to distract himself, glad the low lights could mask the blush on his cheeks.
On the other hand, Pierre called him all sorts of names and insults that, thankfully, no one would hear over the loud music.
Not that anyone would have understood what the french boy was saying anyway.
Why am I doing this? Charles is the pretty boy guys fall for anyw-ah!" Pierre exclaimed, startled.
"Hey princess, watch where you're going!" An angry voice yelled in his face.
A tall man towered in front of him. Pierre stepped back, visibly flinching at the expression on the drunk man in front of him.
He glanced back, trying to find Charles, who had miraculously disappeared. Typical. You could never find the boy when you needed him.
Panic rushed through his spine as he heard the man speak again.
"Have you lost your mom, pretty boy?"
Pierre froze at the nickname. It made his muscles go rigid and his breath stick to his throat.
"Oh, there you are! I was looking for you!"
Pierre's head snapped to the left.
"Is there a problem?"
"No, I was about to leave," the intimidating man growled.
"Bye, then."
The man left Pierre and his savior with a scoff and a glare.
"Are you okay?"
It took a while for Pierre to gather the courage to reply. He stared at the stranger in front of him dumbfounded, then, as he woke up from his trance, he nodded weakly.
"Merci" he managed to say without stuttering. "Je ne parle pas en anglais." He fiddled with his fingers, picking at the already destroyed skin of his left thumb.
"Mais je peux comprendre!" He vigorously added, nodding as if the action would have helped his words become more comprehensible.
"I assume you're telling me you don't speak English, right?"
Pierre nodded.
"But you understand me when I speak?"
He repeated his action, that time, less quickly and with an added small smile.
The beautiful stranger flashed him a wonderful smile, one that immediately reached his eyes and carved creases on the dark skin above his cheekbones.
"Hi, I'm Lewis."
He extended his arm and offered him his hand, which Pierre immediately accepted and softly shook.
"Mercì, Lewis." Pierre brought a hand to his chest. "Pierre."
"Nice to meet you, Pierre." Lewis smiled at the way the french boy pronounced his name, "Hope I didn't intrude or anything back there-"
Pierre shook his head vigorously, offering the stranger - Lewis - his terrified furrowed-brow expression and a lot of gratefulness. "Non, non."
"Glad I was able to help then."
Pierre could do - or say - nothing but smile, losing himself in the warm and lucid eyes in front of him.
"Is there anything else I can do for you?"
Well, if you kissed me, I wouldn't exactly mind it.
"You look a bit lost. Are you alone?"
Pierre glanced back once more, moving his head around, trying to find Charles in the crowd. Where was he? Pierre just wanted to go home.
"Do you need help finding your friend?" Lewis offered, attempting to decipher what Pierre was nonverbally trying to tell him.
"Oui, s'il vous plaît."
"Maybe they're outside?"
With that, Lewis delicately took hold of Pierre's arm and brought him closer to himself, and they made their way past the thickening crowd towards the exit.
Pierre tensed at the looks he was getting from a few people and ended up pressing closer to the stranger's chest. Though, a soft squeeze of his arm immediately calmed him down.
Pierre wasn't sure he was doing the wisest of things, following a stranger alone, but the sense of security the beautiful man gave him by just holding him close and helping him out of the crowded room caused him to throw out of the window every other thought of self-preservation.
It wasn't wise, but it was what his gut was telling him.
Besides, it was either the beautiful stranger who he was dying to kiss or the rude aggressive man who had almost laid his filthy hands on him.
The beautiful stranger who smelled like vanilla and tobacco it was then.
"Do you see them anywhere?"
"Hm?"
"Your friend."
He glanced around, not caring to move away from Lewis, who still held his arm.
"Ah!" Pierre pointed at a lonely Charles, walking around just off the sidewalk, moving in circles as he spoke with someone - he presumed Charlotte - on the phone.
Charles found Pierre's gaze, smiled, and raised a hand, asking for a few minutes more on the phone.
"Do you mind if I keep you some company as your friend finishes his phone call?"
Pierre turned his head to look at Lewis and flashed him a bigger grateful smile.
Lewis smiled back and sat down on the sidewalk. He reached for the huge pockets of his deep purple cargo pants and grabbed a lighter.
The sidewalk outside of the bar was busy with people holding beer bottles and colorful half-empty cocktail glasses. Amongst the chaos, Pierre sat down as well as he watched mesmerized the man next to him light a cigarette and take a few puffs. Even at that simple action, Pierre couldn't help but stare at Lewis.
The lights caught on his piercings as they previously did inside. The one on his nose and the multiple ones on his lobes were all trapped in the mixture of the tones formed by the street lamps and the colorful led banners that surrounded that street.
Lewis offered him one, but Pierre quickly shook his head.
"You don't smoke, huh? Good."
Pierre smiled a bit, not knowing what to reply to that. He wasn't sure he could have even if he had been capable of forming coherent sentences in English.
"You don't drink."
Pierre eyed him slightly taken aback.
Lewis wasn't asking. He was stating.
"You don't smoke or drink. You don't seem to be interested in dancing, or in all of the girls that have been staring at you and your friend since - well, basically since you stepped inside."
Pierre could feel his cheek burn slightly as he furrowed, both confused at where the conversation was heading and embarrassed that the beautiful stranger had observed him so carefully.
"So, if you don't mind me asking, what are you doing here?"
Lewis asked, tilting his head and interrupting his smile for a second only to take another puff of his cigarette.
For the second time during the conversation, Pierre found himself not sure of what to say or how to say it.
"I know the answer." He pressed his finished cigarette on the ground. "Here it is." Lewis scooted closer and moved to face him. He reached with a hand for his chin. His fingers carefully brought Pierre closer and slightly raised his head, forcing him to meet his gaze.
Pierre could hear his own violent heartbeat in his ears. He unconsciously leaned in his touch, reacting instinctively to whatever Lewis was doing to him.
"Am I wrong?"
Pierre could only shake his head slightly, not sure of what he was answering. He sure hoped he had answered the right way.
And when Lewis pressed his lips against his, he was definitely sure he had answered the right way.
The kiss was almost a peck, so tender and soft that Pierre thought for a second he had dreamed it.
Lewis broke it immediately, but very slowly, almost as if he was pondering on what he was doing as he was pulling away.
He looked at Pierre and smiled, amused at the blushed look on his face. Pierre could only smile back, feeling his cheeks burn more by the second.
Lewis was about to lean in again but stopped abruptly.
He pursed his lips together. "Now you can speak English." He looked down, raised his eyebrows, and exhaled loudly from his nose. "That's what you wanted, right?" He picked up the remains of his cigarette from the ground and stood up, throwing it away in the bin and making his way inside.
As Pierre followed Lewis's way back inside only aurally, not daring to look back at the stranger, he heard something too far away from it to be aimed at him, "You should go home."
Only at that, he turned to the side, barely catching Lewis as he made his way in the crowded room, but instead seeing Charles stand just a couple of steps away from him, making his way to him, with a huge smile on his face.
Pierre barely found the strength to get up, his legs were shaking, his heart was still beating dangerously fast and the loud music had manifested a pounding headache.
His breathing, too, had gotten faster and unsteady. The beautiful stranger had snatched his breath away with the one kiss that had lasted way too little.
"I saw it happen!" The excitement in Charles's voice was unnerving Pierre.
He couldn't even speak properly as he forced himself up with strength he had inexplicably found somewhere in his body.
It was all just a flash. Charles's lips on his. Him grabbing his hand and dragging them both home as he happily recited words in English, delighted he could finally speak the dreaded language. Everything had happened so fast Pierre had barely grasped the entire situation.
In the midst of all the confusion, though, the image of Lewis watching them leave from the other side of the glass had not failed to stain his brain.
Lewis's bittersweet smile followed him home, as did Pierre's regret.
How intensely he wanted to go back to explain that he actually liked him. That he couldn't stop thinking about the tobacco and vanilla perfume he wore, or the warm embrace that had saved him from a crowd of drunk people, or the peck that had sent his mind into a short circuit.
He wanted to kiss him again and wash off the taste of Charles from his lips.
He unconsciously licked his lips, desperately trying to find the phantom taste of cigarette, alcohol, and mint. But Charles's stupidly overpriced chapstick now replaced the taste of Mojito.
Suddenly, Charles's hold on his arm strongly upset him, unnerving him to the point of awakening an urge to punch his friend.
Did he have to kiss him like that in front of Lewis? Did he have to kiss him so suddenly, erasing completely and immediately the taste of his beautiful knight, without giving him the chance to even daydream about it for a while?
Pierre's blood boiled at the regret of his missed opportunity.
"What's wrong?"
Pierre didn't know how Charles noticed he was upset. Maybe it was the way he shut the door of their new apartment, or maybe the pout he could feel weigh down his face.
"Nothing."
"Did something happen?" At his silence, Charles insisted. "Pierre?"
"Couldn't you have waited to get home?"
"What are you talking about?"
"You kissing me."
"Shouldn't I have? I thought you said it was okay earlier?"
"That's not the problem."
"I can't read minds, yet."
"You could have at least waited till he couldn't see us anymore."
"Who? Bar guy?"
"Bar guy is named Lewis."
"Sorry, Lewis." When Pierre just glared at him, he added, "Wait, you didn't actually like him, did you?"
"I-" Pierre furrowed his eyebrows, "None of your business."
Charles grabbed his wrist, grinning from ear to ear, "You're adorable."
"Fuck you."
"What was that for?" Charles brought him closer to himself, "I mean that." He hugged Pierre and felt him sigh against his chest, barely reciprocating the embrace.
"Fine, go change, I'll make you some tea."
At that, Pierre nodded and turned on his heels, parting ways with his best friend who was trying his best to make amends.
"Come on, are you finished, yet?"
"Yeah." Pierre joined him in the living room. "Aren't you going to get ready?"
"Yeah, I will later."
"Mh."
"Don't worry, Mr. Dermatologist, I will do my skincare." Charles joked as he wrapped his arm around Pierre's back, forcing his friend to rest his weight on his side. "Now, spill it."
"He was so beautiful," Pierre whined. "So sweet and gentle."
"What happened?"
"A weirdo threatened me."
"Excuse me?"
"Yeah, and he saved me."
Charles scoffed.
"He did! And he helped me through the crowd, took me outside, and just sat there with me until you came back."
"Was the kiss any good, at least?"
"I don't know, man, you didn't even let me savor it before putting your nasty mouth on mine."
Charles laughed, "Okay, idiot."
"It was just a peck, I barely realized what was happening."
Pierre sighed, "It was so sweet and tender. He was so sweet and tender."
"Like a chicken breast."
Pierre weakly slapped his arm in protest.
"I am kidding, chill. Wouldn't want to offend your knight in shining armor."
"You better not."
Charles smiled down at him, "Are you gonna act lovesick now until you finally see him again and tell him everything?"
"I am never going to see him ever again."
"Why not?"
"Because God hates me."
"You're so melodramatic, he probably liked you back."
"Then why did he give me such a tiny kiss."
"Consent?"
"Okay, but why did he leave?"
"Maybe he saw your tired ass face and thought you needed a nap. Which you definitely did."
"I did not look tired! I was just shaken."
"Sure."
Pierre could only glare at him.
"He did tell me to take you home."
"Yes, I heard that." Pierre stared at his hands as he played with his fingernails.
He then unpromptedly gasped, startling Charles in the process. "What if he thought we were - Oh my God, Charles!"
"What?"
"What if he thought you were my boyfriend or something?" Pierre exclaimed with a mildly disgusted expression.
"Should I be offended?"
"Be serious!"
"Maybe, I don't know."
"And your ass didn't help, kissing me in front of him."
"I am sorry, okay! I didn't think you liked the guy. You barely wanted to go talk to him in the first place."
Pierre just groaned back and buried his face in the pillow next to him.
It was going to be a long night.
Charles couldn't take it anymore. Pierre was still moping over his morning cappuccino.
"Ok, get your ass up."
Pierre just threw him a glare. So he tried again. "Move, we're going out."
"To where?"
"Just get up and trust me for once."
And so Pierre did.
The street looked so different compared to the previous night. There were no tipsy people holding tropical glasses, no bottles of beer placed on the edge of the sidewalk as people sat down to speak and laugh. There were also no more purple lights, the place looked warmer. Pierre could actually appreciate the interior design of the place, with no one in yet. The place had just opened.
He then turned to his best friend, whispering, "Why are we here?"
"Because you were getting on my nerves."
Pierre deadpanned at that, not amused.
"Can I help you?" There was another girl at the counter. Pierre felt a pang of disappointment. He really wanted to find Lewis.
"Oh, yeah, we were looking for someone," Charles spoke up. "Handsome guy, ripped, he had braids and a nose piercing. He was here last night."
"Lewis," Pierre interrupted, "His name is Lewis."
The girl smiled almost instantly and indicated the door behind them.
Neither Pierre nor Charles turned around fast enough to see who walked in the place before hearing them.
"Angela, hope you're hungry. I brought bagels- Oh, hi."
Pierre recognized the voice immediately, turned around, and froze on the spot. Lewis walked in with a purple motorcycle helmet in one hand, and a paper bag in the other. He walked to the counter to place down his items, smiling with surprise at the unexpected guests.
"He's the big boss here," Angela joked.
"Hi, Pierre."
"Hi." Pierre's voice almost betrayed him.
"I'm Charles." His friend reached his arm for a handshake, something Pierre had never seen him do.
"Nice to meet you, well, again." He shook Charles's hand and let out a hearty laugh. At that, Pierre's knees almost gave out. "I'm Lewis."
"Oh, wait, so he's the guy?"
"Angela," Lewis warned his friend.
"He texted me at 3am last night to tell me he met a cute French guy like he didn't know I had the morning shift today."
Pierre's head snapped at the counter while Charles spoke out with an exasperated sigh, "Honestly same, he couldn't shut up about the sweet and tender guy who saved him from a scary mean dude, last night."
"Charles!"
"Painful, right?" Angela laughed.
"Definitely. Can you make me a macchiato?" With that, Charles stepped away, and Pierre didn't know if he was grateful or angry that he did.
He then turned his head to face Lewis, with his cheeks on fire and with embarrassment rushing its way from the tip of his toes to his forehead.
"So, you two aren't-" Lewis spoke up, breaking the awkward silence with just as awkward words. "I thought you two were together."
Pierre couldn't help a disgusted expression make its way on his face. "No, no. He's like a brother to me. He just kissed me because he has a girlfriend, and he promised her he wouldn't have kissed anyone else."
"Oh, thank God."
Pierre raised his eyebrows both in a confused and an amused way at the exasperated way Lewis spoke.
"It's just that - well, Angela just spoiled it, but-" He chuckled again as he shook his head. "I really liked you."
"Oh." Pierre wanted to punch himself when the exclamation came out of his mouth.
"Sorry if I-"
"No, no!"
"It's just that last night when you didn't ask for the kiss, I thought maybe you weren't interested that way. Then I saw you with him, and I thought that was why."
"I was just scared. Well, first of all, that accident with the guy upset me a bit, then I realized that I genuinely liked you. And-" He smiled a bit sheepishly, "And that really never happens to me. At first, I didn't think you'd be interested in me, but then I just didn't want to fuck it up." Pierre's eyes widened immediately. "I mean, I know it sounds weird because we only just met, but-"
"No, I totally get it!" Lewis's eyes wrinkled at the sides as he smiled. "And that's really cute. But you know that if you had explained, I would have just done it right away?"
Pierre chuckled. "And in what language was I supposed to explain?"
Lewis started laughing as he covered his eyes with his hand, "Oh, right. I'm an idiot."
Pierre's heart raced. "I could ask now, though."
Lewis looked at him, a bit surprised at the courage. "Oh, please do."
"Can you kiss me?" He asked with a smile, watching Lewis close the gap between their bodies and put a hand on his waist.
"Avec plaisir."
Pierre's eyes widened as he wrapped his arms around Lewis's neck. He felt a bit weak in the knees - and a bit dumb - at the realization that he forgot that when he learned English with the kiss, Lewis learned French too.