3 years later…

One day, in class, Julien was watching one of the smarter boys doing a math problem on the blackboard. Julien was once again reminded of Jean. Damn, he thought, I can't do this anymore! He kicked back his chair, and left the room. The eyes of his classmates bore into his back. He didn't care. Jean was the only boy he'd ever let look at his back like that. No one else mattered.

Julien stormed down the echoing empty hallways of the school. Everybody was in class, which was good. He didn't want anybody to see him in this state. Nobody except Jean was allowed to do that. At the fresh remembrance of Jean, he started tearing up. No. Jean would never be here for him again. He was dead.

Julien started running. His footsteps pounding down the creaking floor almost drowned out his thoughts of dead Jean. Almost. Panic and despair rose in his gorge as he burst out of the doors of the school into the courtyard. Fresh air would help him, he hoped.

He sat outside for a while. The headmaster of the school, a man who strongly resembled Pere Jean, came out leading a kid around. The boy was perhaps the same age as Julien, and just a bit taller. He had dark hair, like Jean, and sorrowful eyes, like Jean. Why couldn't he stop thinking about Jean? Years after his death, Jean was still the only thing he fixated on. Julien stifled a sob. He looked up at Pere Jean 2.0 leading the boy, who looked strangely like Jean avec les sorrows de la world.

Pere Jean 2.0 turned to face Julien. "Julien Quentin! Why aren't you in class? That's not cool. But while you're here, I will introduce you to our new pupil, Jean Kippelstein."

"Bonjour, Julien," said Jean. He looked thinner and shorter than he had been before they had taken him away. But that was probably because Julien had grown a great deal and was nearly as tall as Jean. Jean smiled, and his full upper lip jutted out a bit, just as how Julien remembered.

Julien could not believe his eyes. Could it be the boy he had dreamed about for years? Could he really be standing in front of him? Julien reached out and touched Jean's face. Well, more like facepalmed it with a floppy hand. He hoped Jean's motor skills had improved after all these years, because his definitely had not.

"Is it you? Jean?"

"Yes, dear Julien, it is me."

"I… I… I can't believe it's you, Jean," he stuttered. "All those years… I could never get over the guilt of what I did… Please forgive me, you were truly an amazing friend… You won't believe how much I missed you."

Jean blushed at these words. Julien was surprised. He had never seen Jean show this kind of emotion before. Could Jean possibly love him back? The odds seemed impossible, but he had spent so many years longing for him, he couldn't waste any more time on words unsaid. He knew he had to tell Jean how he felt. No matter the consequences. Sure, it was 1947 and l'homosexualite was banned, but Julien wouldn't let societal norms define his life. This was love, he knew it. Nothing could get in the way in love. Love had no labels. Love did not care about gender. Love won all. He just needed Jean to love him back and he would be invincible.

"Hey, are you free tonight?" He asked Jean, while Pere Jean 2.0 was still watching. "Maybe we could eat confiture and chill."

"Yeah, sounds cool," responded Jean, trying to look nonchalant.

"I'll pick you up after school," Julien shamelessly winked.

Back at the Quentins

"Maman," Julien shouted. "I'm home! And I brought someone special with me."

"Shush Julien," Maman admonished. "Who could possibly be worth all that racket?"

She turned around. "Mon Dieu," she gasped. "Could that possibly be…? But I thought he was dead? That gracious Jew… What's your name again, cheri?"

"Jean Kippelstein."

"Oh yes, that must be your real name. I am so happy you made it out alive. Julien missed you desperately."

"Mamaaan," groaned Julien. "Stop embarrassing me!"

"Mais c'est vrai!" said Mme Quentin. "He was absolutely despondent for… how long has it been, 4 years?"

Julien's ears turned red. Jean stared at them while pretending not to stare at them. He loved how his ears stuck out. Except then he had inappropriate thoughts about taking Julien's earlobes in his own lips. And maybe taking some other part of Julien between his lips. And that was not ok according to the Torah. Also his inappropriate thoughts sometimes made for some embarrassing moments.

"Okay, why don't you boys go spend some time alone in Julien's large soundproof room?" Both boys blushed simultaneously. Mme Quentin didn't notice a thing, as usual.

In Julien's extremely soundproof room...

The two boys stood awkwardly at the door. "So," Jean began. "I finally get to see your room. This is what it's like."

"Yes," replied Julien. "Want to get a better look?"

They shut the door and sat on the edge of Julien's luxurious king-sized bed. They stared into each other's eyes. How, thought Julien, are his lips so full? He desperately wanted to let his tongue run along them. I bet they taste like ambrosia. Truly, Jean was the nectar of the gods! His lips looked so soft. Also chapped because back then, boys did not think they looked cool using chapstick.

Jean was trying not to stare at the edges of Julien's ears. If only, he thought, I could kiss them. He knew his fantasies were getting a hold of him. "So," he said, breaking the silence, "It has been awhile."

"Too long," replied Julien, trying to look him in the eyes instead of staring at his lips. "Listen, Jean, I need to tell you something. You don't have to say anything, or do anything about it, but please don't insult me or run away telling everybody else."

"I could never insult you, Julien," whispered Jean, as if he were talking to himself. "You mean too much to me… You couldn't comprehend how much…"

"I think I do," Julien leaned forward. Their faces were inches apart. He could see the pink of Jean's lips. He could lean in and kiss him… But he hesitated. He knew he should confess his feelings first, and be assured he had no competition. "You can't tell anyone. Not even Negus."

Jean's expression changed. "Negus is dead."

Julien's face softened. "Oh, Jean…"

"When I escaped Auschwitz, we were both running out. I got past the gate first. I turned around to see Negus being shot by the guards. He told me to run. He told me," Jean paused for a second. His breath was shallower now, and shaky, as if he wanted to cry. "That he loved me."

Julien could not believe what he was hearing.

"He sacrificed himself for me, Julien," a tear streamed down his face. "Negus told the guards that his name was Jean Kippelstein so that I could escape unrecorded."

"What? When was this?" asked Julien, also tearing up.

"October of '44. You have no idea how guilty I felt, to have escaped while the person who loved me was being shot down."

Julien's voice suddenly became quiet. "Did you love him?"

"I… I don't know. He was my best friend and he sacrificed himself for me. He paid the highest price to save me. I don't even know if I deserve it. I'm a horrible person."

"No, Jean," Julien replied sharply. "You could never be a bad person."

That night, after tears, piano playing, and chestnuts, Jean returned to his distant relatives' house. Julien could not bear to see him leave. He knew he would see Jean at school, but it wouldn't be the same. He wanted to help him, he wanted to love him, he wanted to protect him from all the horrors of the world. He wanted to wrap his arms around Jean and never let him go.

All day at school, Julien had been building up the courage to tell Jean he loved him. It was surprisingly difficult, even after Julien had been reminded that he and Jean did not have all the time in the world. Instead of revealing his true feelings, he had gotten insight on what had happened in the camp. Although his heart felt it had been wrenched, squashed, and torn apart, he now better understood his object of affection. Jean had opened up to him. And that maybe was reward unto itself.