“I made you lasagna for tonight!” The thought just passed his lips as it popped in his mind. No time for any kind of filter to stop it. It does stop Camille in his tracks. But he picks up again as if nothing had happened.
“You do sound like a married couple !” Matthieu says to Cyril later on as they’re getting ready to leave.
No one really reacts to Mathieu’s words. They’ve said it so many times themselves.
“I’m really really sorry for asking but would you have a spare bed?” That’s Bertrand’s text that comes at noon on Saturday. Camille answers positively and Bertrand’s knocking at his door a couple of hours later.
They talk for some time. Bertrand about his recent fights with his girlfriend and his need to get away. Camille taps him on the shoulder, knowing full well about having enough of someone and realizing it’s just never enough when you’ve walked away. They’ve fought more than once with Cyril. Sometimes with one of the two walking away for the night. But they’d always made up. Soul mates always do, some poets must have written about it at some point.
They end up playing Fifa by the time the sun sets. Screaming, jumping out of the couch, fighting, pushing each other. Calm wouldn’t exactly be the word to describe them.
“Oh you!! Fucker!!” Camille screams one last time as Bertrand shoots and scores. Who jumps out of the couch, punching the air with the smile of a toddler who’s just been offered an ice-cream. And he stops dead in his tracks, mouth and eyes wide open. Camille frowns and turns around.
He’s greeted by the sight of Cyril fully dressed in his coat and scarf and everything else. He walks straight to him and bends down to leave a kiss on Camille’s head. “Hello you!” He says cheerfully as he leaves the room, taking off the warms clothes.
Bertrand is still frozen, fist mid air and mouth gaping.
“Are you alright?” Camille asks when he turns back around.
“I- You… Him?” Camille frowns once more. Invites him to go on with a nod.
“You? The two of you?Together?”
“Well alright.” He sights and sats back down.
“What?” Camille asks. He doesn’t understand his friend’s reaction. “What’s with your face?"
"No. Nothing. I just- I just didn’t think that’s all. It’s nothing.” Bertrand says flatly trying not to bring light on the fact he never ever believed his friends’ shenanigans.
“You didn’t think we were together?” Obviously Camille reads his thoughts. They’re plastered all over his face, they’re hard to miss.
“No. But it’s alright, I swear."
"Yeah but you didn’t think we were together? I mean- how could you miss it?"
"I just thought Cyril was being crazy-"
"Thank you very much!"
"You know it’s not what I meant. I just didn’t think… Your- well, act was real."
"It was never an act.” Camille frowns. “You all thought all this time me and him was just a joke?"
"What are you talking about?” Cyril asks as he saunters in and slumps on the couch next to Camille. “Let’s have a three way!” He exclaims as he squeezes Camille’s thigh. He picks up Camille’s joystick and starts the game again, setting it with his favorite team against Bertrand.
Bertrand and Camille go back to playing as if nothing happened. Bertrand does spend the whole night trying not to stare at all the gestures and touches exchanged between his friends. Who are now a couple. Who were always a couple. It freezes his thoughts sometimes and makes him loose a couple of games. But then he’s back into it and kicks Cyril’s ass beautiful. ‘til he’s handed his own back by Camille who trashes him. Cyril tickling him all the way through does help his- well boyfriend.
"Did you know they don’t believe it?“ Camille hits his pillow a few times before settling it the way he likes it and sliding under the covers.
"What are you talking about?” Cyril asks, he walking back into their bedroom. He’s taken off all his clothes except for his boxers and Camille smiles at the sight.
“Bertrand. Tonight. He didn’t think you and I were real.” Camille’s eyes follow Cyril walking around the bed and sitting down.
"Really?“ Cyril chuckles as he rolls from his side to spoon Camille. He nuzzles his neck. Breathing in deeply. "Good night” he says in a whisper before leaving a wet kiss in the crook of Camille’s neck and settling back down. Camille moans slightly when Cyril’s warm breathe touches his skin. He tightens his hold on Cyril’s hand and secure his arm around his waist. “Good night” he says in a happy sigh. They’re both fast asleep.
The subject isn’t discussed any further the following day. After all it is Sunday and they have much better things to do. Like making love as the sun rises.
Camille’s body clock now wakes him everyday at around 5am. And when he doesn’t need to go to work, like on Sundays, they end up spending the morning having fun in bed. It doesn’t always involve sex.
Today. It does.
Much to Bertrand’s displeasure. He’s in the room next door and flees away to the living room on the other side of the flat. It’s well past 10am when Camille and Cyril wander into the kitchen and find Bertrand with a steaming cup in hand. They greet each other normally although Bertrand has a hard time not blushing.
“Sorry about this morning. We remembered too late you were there.” They say at some point. Bertrand tries not to turn red then. But it does makes Cyril chuckle, the way he is embarrassed.
On Monday, Cyril struts in backstage at his usual time. Meaning at least ten minutes late. Camille’s not there yet, so he tries to occupy his time by starting the brief. When Camille does walk in, Cyril greets him with a bright broad smile. “Mon bébé !” His arms are stretched wide open and Camille walks straight in them. They hug, holding onto each other tightly. They saw each other in the morning but they still haven’t seen each other in something like twelve hours. And that is a lot.
And no one says anything, as it is what they’re used to. Even Matthieu’s startled face has become a part of it.
But today is a different day. As Camille loosens his hold and starts moving away, Cyril cups his face and turns his face just so. He looks him in the eye, with a smile. And Camille smiles back. Nods slightly. He leans forward, head angled perfectly, his lips land exactly where he wants them. Cyril’s mouth is silky soft as always. And warm and inviting. He tastes wonderfully, and the little sound he makes when Camille bites his lower lip makes him weak at the knees. One of the reasons they rarely, very rarely kiss in public. Before it goes any further and reaches public indecency, they part, Camille joining the others by the couch.
“If that’s a joke, it’s not even funny at this point.” Valérie says as she looks back down at her papers.
No one’s really surprised or taken aback or reacting at what just happened in front of their very eyes.
“So you really don’t believe it?"
"Believe what?” Enora asks, with such a happy smile Cyril frowns at it.
"That Camille and I are an item.“
"Cyril, you’ve spent the last three years joking about it, it’s for the cameras. Now could we move on?"
"No, but it’s real! Camille!” Cyril exclaims, nearly ranting about it. Camille only steps closer to him but doesn’t say another word. He’d heard a few things here and there that had lead him to believe some didn’t think they were truly together but he never put much thought into it. They weren’t close friends. And yeah, it hurts a bit to think no one can believe they truly love each other (he’s mostly hurt for Cyril because it often sounds like Cyril’s not good enough for him). But mostly it’s crazy funny to see Cyril trying to make them see it.
“Valerie.” She naps her head up. “You don’t think he and I are together?” He asks, his hands pointing at Camille. “I’ve kissed him and you don’t think it’s true."
"You’ve kissed a hundred people, Cyril. And you’re not in a relationship with any of them."
"I- but.” He’s at a loss for words. “We’re together.” He says firmly.
“Right. If you start believing your own crap.” Thierry says softly, looking down at his phone, but Cyril hears it. And his heart is nearly broken in two. Why would people say that? Don’t they see the way he looks at Camille? And showers him in compliments? And loves him so much he’d give him the world if he could? “I can’t believe…” He sighs.
Bertrand hasn’t even piped in to confirm what they’re trying to make everyone see, he’s too busy laughing at his phone.
They spend the rest of the brief hand in hand. And some stare at them and roll their eye. But they’re firmly decided to show them they’re not joking. Life’s an adventure, not a fucking joke. He says so during the show, several times. And drops hints. About love, truth, honesty. But do not keep their “act” up during Camille’s chronique.
When they’re back backstage, they touch each other, keep a hand at the small of their backs. Gestures they do inadvertently, because they’re a bit hurt not many believe them. But the smile on their faces everytime their skin meet makes Camille realize he’s missing out on a lot what with keeping quiet about it.
Beside the dramatic scènes de ménages and the over the top act they keep up, it is good to have some subtlety mixed up in it.
It’s a good month later that everyone has come to accept it isn’t just a joke. The hand light on the other’s arm, at the small of his back, or just caressing his cheek when they see each other. All these subtle and not so subtle gestures have won everyone over.
But it’s mostly that evening spent at theirs and seeing how well they fit together. By each other’s side at all time, always touching the other. The smiles, the looks, the way they simply light up the whole room with their love.