Note: inspired by 'Galeb Galeb (heart, heart)' by Mohammed Salem. It's an Arabic song so putting out lyrics would just be stupid. For Miss KittyKat because I said so and because it's her birthday and it's (kinda)…well, is, late but meh.
Title: Coeur
Rated: +13 - some suicide, boy/boy but nothing more really C8
Summary: because apparently, cats are the symbol for romance, dammit. Brian Kendrick/Paul London.
Genre: Romance/Tragedy
"Paul!"
His annoying fiancée, the pregnant and lovely Fiona Parker, had her hands around her swollen stomach. Her dress was restrictive instead of flowing and her eyes glinted and shined beautifully against the sunlight. Her face was glowing and kissable and Paul stared back at her with a forced smile onto his lips. God, he wished that Fiona wasn't pregnant—he just wanted to tell her.
"Look, it's a chanton!"
Fiona still had a mixture of French and English when she spoke sometimes and that somehow annoyed Paul even more considering that he knew no French and the more he spent time with her, the more he despised her but he turned around to see what was her 'chanton', which was a orange-haired tabby cat with bright green eyes.
"I want it, Paul!Je veux le chat, Paul!" (1)
"Okay, Fiona. Just stay here for a moment whilst I wait here for the cat's owner to come by so I can ask her where she got the cat from."
"No, no, Paul!" her French accent aggravated her tone of voice. "I want that cat! I don't want anything else! S'il vous plaît, Paul!" (2)
"You want me to buy that specific cat from its owner, right?"
"Oui, oui, oui! It's a present for our garçon!" (3)
Paul rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine. Just go back home, take a taxi and I'll take the owner out to lunch and try to persuade her to let me pay for the cat."
"Promise, Paul! Promise!"
"I promise."
"Oh, merci, my love! Merci!" she grinned and moved away, waiting for her taxi as he stared down at the cat. The orange tabby simply moved near him and sniffed him for a moment before the cat stared at him and moved closer. Apparently, the scent was known for the cat, as if she'd known him for a while. Paul laughed at the cat, happy that he had a few moments to spare as he tried to think of ways to let the owner give him the cat. He'd pay her double the price. Yes. And if she bragged about how much the cat meant to her, then he'd triple the price or if she didn't want the money, then he'd get to negotiate with her, try to soften her up slightly and explain his situation.
But there was something about the cat—
Just something…
"Coeur, where are you? Where are you? Coeur?"
That voice...
"Where are you? Coeur?"
So familiar.
He turned around to face his 5'8 blonde former tag team partner, whom was now in a beige coat and jeans. He stared at Paul with a look mixed of surprise onto his face as the tabby cat returned to her original owner.
"Coeur," Paul said, staring at the orange tabby cat.
"Yes, Coeur." He pulled up the cat into his arms, scooping her up quite easily whereas Paul wouldn't dare scoop up the cat that way, afraid that it would attack him in plain sight.
"Lunch?" Paul offered.
He expected Brian to slap him, or say no, or even step onto his shoes and then hit his Adam's apple in a simple move but Brian looked at him and nodded his head. "Fine."
That only made Paul's heart feel drenched with guilt and knowing that he'd have to come home with the tabby cat or Fiona would have a tantrum and a fit and possibly even not talk to him for the last few months—that would make him seem like the bad guy in front of Fiona's family, that always pampered her. She didn't even know what 'pain' was due to the fact that whenever she felt anything slight, she'd take a pill for it and they'd always gotten her the most expensive pills.
Now, Paul was the one that was supposed to give her anything and his love for her had faded—it felt like he was only thing to give her 'things' rather than show her love and that caused him to go into a meltdown of anger and rage and then he accepted his part. Or what would forever be his part, giving her things and treating her like she was the queen of the world rather than just a French girl coming from a rich family.
"Brian, look, I—"
"Lunch, isn't it?" he repeated again and Paul wondered why Brian was trying so hard to suppress his anger and rage over Paul. If Paul was in Brian's position, he would've hit him with the post next to him and have the cat scratch out his stomach so that nothing but his intestines were in view but...
Nothing.
It was like two friends with a distant relationship meeting each other after a year or so rather that want to exchange stories and tips and then depart to see each other again the next day over tea and bread. The feeling lasted as they reached the corner of a household and Brian found himself handing over Coeur towards a grinning woman. "Oh, does Brian have a date?"
"Oh no!" Paul found himself cutting in.
Brian tried to ignore the uproar in Paul's voice as he shook his head, smiling to the woman. "No, Celine, he's just a friend treating me to lunch."
"Oh," Celine sounded quite disappointed but then perked up her voice. "I hope you have some fun, dear! I'm happy you're finally going out instead of pampering Coeur! You're living for the cat, love! You deserve a break."
Brian continued to smile at her, but now, it was a feat to simply smile. "You know that I adore, Coeur, and it isn't a hassle to take care of her."
There was so much that wasn't said as Brian departed from Celine and they walked to the nearest restaurant. When they departed from Celine, all Paul could do was think and he didn't know how to approach a conversation with Brian and he'd half-lost his appetite just thinking about Brian and him having lunch together but the fact that he had no breakfast only pushed his appetite. His inner self was battling with him and he simply walked inside of the doorway of the restaurant, asking the nearest person for a table.
It wasn't long until they'd gotten a table and a menu.
Brian was flipping through the pages as he blinked repetively. In an instant, the waiter came to ask for their orders.
"Foie gras pâte...?" Brian was still flipping through.
Paul laughed, "he'll have a foie gras and I'll have a steak , well-done, please."
"Yes sir."
The minute the man left had Brian laughed. "I don't know what that is. I wanted to ask you about it. That foie gras you just ordered for me..."
"Oh," Paul felt humiliated yet smiled at him. "It's a type of food that's made with the liver of a goose or a duck...and it's served with a few veggies on the side. I think you'll have fun trying to try it, rather. What do you think?"
"I'm slightly put off but...yeah, I'll try it."
There was a lot of tension in the air and nobody talked until the food had arrived. At that moment, Brian put down the phone he was playing with and Paul his own. It felt too awkward. They were having lunch together yet they didn't know what to say to each other and were almost like two strangers in their own different worlds.
Brian was testing the foie gras with his fork. That caused Paul to laugh. "Just eat it."
"I don't want to."
"Brian, stop being a child."
"I'm not! It's just...it looks a lot like tofu."
Brian forked a piece and lifted it upwards before he took a quite bite, and started to munch on it. "It's really...flavoured and...it's kinda oily and...I'm not a big fan of it."
Paul took a bite of his own food. Brian pushed away his food and Paul swapped his plate with Brian's foie gras. It was the least he could do but even with a swapped plate, Brian barely ate his food and played with it most of the time. He didn't looked like he was in the mood for eating—or rather—for who he was eating with.
"Bry?" Paul asked. His voice delicate. "What that woman said—about you spending most of your time with Coeur, is it true?"
"Yes."
"Coeur..." Paul repeated the cat's name, feeling guiltier now that he was just about to ask Brian if he'd give him the cat.
"It means Heart in French," Brian mused.
"Coeur, where are you? Where are you? Coeur?"
Paul took a sip of his tea and nodded towards him.
"Coeur, Coeur, where, where?"
Paul could only see vague images of him taking Coeur away from Brian and Brian waking up day after day, looking for her, lost and confused without her but he tried to shake the images out of his head. He instantly focused onto his lunch.
"I've got a French fiancée," Paul simply said, almost as if to break the atmosphere.
Brian didn't say anything in return. Didn't congratulate him and didn't even joke about how 'nobody would marry Paul, much less a French beauty' and his eyes looked watery blue rather than their harder blue a minute ago.
"Her name is Fiona. She's pregnant."
Still no reaction. Paul felt like he pushed on too many buttons at once.
"I always wanted to go to Paris..." Brian's voice was weak when he was saying this and Paul remembered that it was Brian's dream to go to Paris, hand-in-hand with Paul but the images of that dream was shattered and distorted and Brian was left behind whilst Paul and Fiona's marriage was happening in Paris. Paul felt his heart ache in silence.
"You should go, you know." Paul smiled. "Life's too short."
He knew that wouldn't do anything and images of him and Brian laughing and sipping champagne instantly came into his mind but he tried to push it all away.
"Coeur, where are you? Where are you? Coeur?"
"I'd feel lonely," Brian responded. "I am lonely."
"Not too lonely, right, though?" Paul tried to cover it up. He hated this guilt that was engulfing him. "I mean, you've got Coeur."
"Yes, Coeur."
"...Brian? I want to ask you for a little favour. Just a tiny one." Paul felt the tension rising up. He put his fork down and smiled warmly at Brian. "Fiona saw Coeur today and she—she wanted me to get her, you know? Sorta like a gift for her? Bry? I'm willing to pay any price—"
"Coeur, are you hurt...? Coeur?"
Brian stared at him with those same watery eyes that seemed to turn into liquid minute by minute. "Coeur?"
"Yes. Coeur...I'll—"
Brian cut him off and nodded his head. "You can have my Coeur," he simply said, not even telling him the significant value of the cat and the condensed feeling of guilt continued to gnaw at Paul's chest but Paul nodded.
He sipped his drink. "Good."
"Good." Brian's voice was now weaker than ever before and that brought a long sadness in Paul.
"Coeur, are you dead...? Coeur, please... s'il vous plaît...please..."
"Brian."
"What do you want from me?" Brian's voice was soft now, almost on the verge of tears.
"...Bry..."
Paul stood up and walked towards Brian. Each step felt like it took an eternity when it only took seconds as he kneeled over, cupping Brian's face into his hands with a soft smile painted on Paul's face. "Bry..."
"What do you want from me?" Brian repeated softly, sniffing now, trying to hold back the stinging clear tears in his eyes.
"Nothing," Paul tried to assure him. "Nothing at all, Bry."
"Don't call me Bry!" Brian said in an uproar.
Then he broke down, dissolving into tears, holding his own head into his hands, his shoulders trembling and knee-weak. Paul's hands onto Brian's shoulders as he tried to help Brian straighten up. "Please, Brian. Please...Bry..."
He wanted to tell him all about how much he missed him, how wrong it was to part from Brian without even a single call, without even a single text message telling him that they've broken up—Brian had to figure it out after the long nights that he spent waiting for his lover but Paul never came back and started his own life independently. Gorgeous. Just plain fucking gorgeous, Paul London.
"Je t'aime." Brian sobbed. "Je t'aime! I love you, you fucking bastard! Can't you see that?"
Paul didn't say anything.
He let Brian sob all he wanted until Brian stood and Paul put a roll of 20's for the meal before he walked out of the doorway with Brian, knowing that that was sufficient enough to pay for the food. Brian could barely walk and Paul couldn't blame him. He let Brian stand near the walls of the restaurant, still looking pale and shaky and just plain depressed. "Brian—"
"Just take me home, Paul. Take Coeur. Take it all. There's nothing left that you didn't take away from me."
Paul didn't even say no. He didn't break down and confess how much he still loved Brian even though his heart was pounding and he just wanted to break it all out. Paul gave him a tissue and the 20-minute walk continued until they reached toward the house of Celine. Celine had the orange tabby into her lap as Brian grabbed onto the tabby and kissed her.
"Hello, my little girl!" he cooed to the cat and kissed her forehead once more. He giggled happily and it was as if the world didn't exist anymore. Paul's remorse was snapping at him but he watched as Brian turned to Paul. "Do you...do you really need her?"
'Say no.'
'Say no.'
'Say that you fucking adore him, Paul. That you miss everything about him and that you want to fly away to Paris with him and give him everything he could ever dream of and tell him that you hate Fiona and you hate the fact that she makes you feel like a damn servant.'
'Say no.'
'Say it.'
"Er...um..."
'Say it.'
The future rested on his shoulder. "I...um...Bry?"
"Yeah?" Brian asked, looking hopeful for once. The hope of a child seeing snowflakes for the first time and the too-happy-for-anything face of receiving a gift wrapped beautifully.
"When Coeur was smelling me...she just—you know, it's like she knows me but I've never seen her before—"
"Oh," Brian laughed lightly. It was a miserable laugh.
They were moving away from Celine after Brian had said a quick 'thank you' and flashed her a fake grin and Paul and him were moving at a slow pace, the tabby cat resting into Brian's lean arms.
"Remember, before you left me..." Brian's voice was soft now. "You left back this stupid huge blue jersey after our first night sleeping with each other. When I was just about cleaning everything after you left, trying to keep myself busy, trying not to think—I found it and I didn't care cry at the sight of it because...I was afraid the scent would fade away and I didn't want to hold it close because I didn't want it to smell like me. I just...I just kept it up in this shelf and I...then I broke down. Then I cried. Away from the jersey when the room smelled like you...and...Paul..."
Brian was staring at him now. "What's wrong with me, Paul?"
'Nothing. I miss you. I miss you so much, Bry. I just wish...'
Paul stared back at him, cupping his face and kissed him softly. The orange cat between them and Paul could almost taste Brian's salty tears and memories of a flashed dream of Paris and Milan and all the beautiful places and lights all meshed together into romance that would never happen. Paul pulled off, looking at Brian's confused face.
Paul took the cat into his hands, waiting for Brian to protest but nothing happened.
"Bye, Bry."
And that was the last thing Paul London ever saw Brian Kendrick, alone, dazed and confused, near the sidewalks, with not even his heart to help him guide him through it and the soft snowflakes and the memories are just crushed and there was nothing left but pain and summer melancholy.
"Paul, you killed my Coeur. You killed her...Paul..."
- heart, heart, where, where?- -
"Isn't he beautiful, Paul?"
Fiona was eying their heir, their love, Philippe that had Paul's lovely dark hair and Fiona's glittery caramel eyes. The year old was curling up into Fiona's arms and she was staring at him. "...Paul?"
"Mm?"
"I was asking you if you thought our Phillipe was beautiful."
"He is." Paul's voice was dull and bored out of his mind, almost as if he was forced to stay there.
"Get out."
That caused Paul to feel alert as he watched Fiona's caramel eyes threaten to burn with tears. "You don't love me, Paul. Je t'aime, Paul, but you don't love me. You don't love me. You don't love our garçon. You don't love our wedding. You don't love anything, Paul."
"I do," Paul flickered his eyes towards the hotel room view, where the Eiffel tower was at, his memory of a giggling Brian into his mind. In the background, Coeur was meowing. "I've always loved him..." his voice was soft now.
"Him? Paul?"
There was no response from Paul.
He threw his credit card down onto the table and stared back at Fiona. "My money—it's all yours. It's all yours. I just...Brian." He was bolting out of the doorway now, causing Philippe to cry as he curled up Coeur into his arms and was moving at lightning speed, unable to think of where or what or anything. All he could think of was bolting to a plane as fast as possible.
Nine hours later, he was holding Coeur into his arms, the vision of Brian standing on the sidewalk harsher than ever into his mind as he moved towards the house that Brian stopped at, his house...and he just wished that he'd be there. From what he saw, the newspaper onto the floor, and an envelope addressed to Brian, he'd kicked those away and walked inside.
"Je t'aime! I love you, you fucking bastard! Can't you see that?"
Paul moved upstairs with a half-smile onto his face. "Brian! Brian! I love you! Brian, that bitch made my life a living hell for a year and I know that you probably hate me now and I know that—I know that I'm a damn jerk for even leaving you and I know—"
Coeur was slipping away from his arms as she left the stairs. Paul raised an eyebrow as he moved through the doorways, and then at the sixth doorway, he stopped at the sight in front of him. Brian was onto his bed, looking very much asleep. Just as Paul grinned and moved towards him, he learned that in Brian's hand were slipping pills, and there wasn't a single pill inside. Paul's heart skipped a beat as he knelt towards his love and shook him. "No, no! I was supposed to fight for you! It isn't supposed to end this way! Bry! Bry! Please...I'll take you to Paris! You always said you wanted to wear a beret! You always said you wanted a bunch of kids knocking over your food and us laughing and...no, no, Bry...no...Bry..." Paul's hands were tightly around Brian's body, staring at the ceiling and trembling. "Bry...Bry...can you hear me? Bry...?"
"Coeur, Coeur, where, where?"
(1) "Je veux le chat" – I want the cat! (2) "S'il vous plaît" – Please (3) "Garçon" – boy Mmm. Little bit of angst to spark it up. Heh. C8~ PARIS. WE MUST ALL GO THERE. –shot by team of monkeys— Also, this is kinda proof I exist! Happy birthday, KitKat. Even though by the time you are reading this, it is the 22nd. Meh. I don't care. I wrote this on the 21st, I finished writing it on the 21st, at 8:39 PM. I win. X Sam.