Exam morning

"Holy shit, this is stressful." Jean threw his bowl of unfinished cereal into the sink. "I don't think I can do this."

"Of course you can, this is just normal pre-test anxiety." Julien placed a fresh plate of toast in front of Jean. "Eat up, you'll need your energy."

"What if I don't pass, Julien? What if I'm the biggest failure there is?"

"Well, then, you'll get to come to Africa with me." At the reminder of their imminent breakup, both boys crumpled a bit inside.

"Oh, Julien." Jean held his head in his hands. "What are we going to do? About us, about life?"

"I don't know."

Procrastinating on studying physics

Apres le bac, the boys headed back to the apartment to pack their things.

"Hey, Jean." Jean looked up from folding his clothing into his trunk. Julien had picked up a ratty copy of the Arabian Nights.

"You kept this thing?"

"Yeah."

Julien was stunned. "You escaped from Auschwitz and the one thing you chose to bring with you was this?"

"I figured that if I died that night, at least I would have had part of you with me." Jean looked back down at his trunk. A smile spread across Julien's face. He was touched. He did all that? For me?

"That was tres sweet, Jean. Also dumb. You put your life at risk for this damn book. I thought you were smart!"

Julien walked over to Jean and wrapped his arms around him. Jean stopped folding clothing. His head was still bowed and Julien couldn't see his expression. "I wish I weren't leaving you, Jean."

"So do I. I can't believe we found each other months before you were supposed to leave." A tear slipped down Jean's cheek and he looked up to find Julien crying softly into his sleeve.

"Can I take you to Congo?"

Jean gave a watery laugh. "You should stay here with me."

"Je suis desole."

"Me too." Jean took the Arabian Nights out of Julien's hands. "I'm keeping this so that a part of you will always be with me."

MERDE'S ABOUT TO ESCALATE

Julien returned to the flat in the late afternoon from the gare. He had just bought a one way ticket to Kinshasa. For the next day. He wouldn't even be saying goodbye to his mother. Jean was sitting on the bed, staring blankly at the wall. The Arabian Nights was cradled in his arms.

"Hey Julien." Jean's gaze didn't waver as Julien sat down beside him.

"Do you want to read the Arabian Nights? Like the good old days?"

Suddenly, Jean turned to face Julien. His stare wasn't blank, like it was before. It was intense. It was penetrating. Julien's stomach did a backflip. Mon Dieu, his eyes are like molasses, he thought. I just want to swim in them and get coated with molasses and have him lick it out of my ears afterwards.

"No, Julien," Jean whispered. "I don't want to read the Arabian Nights. But you know what I want to do?"

Julien looked at him, petrified. Jean bet that he was scaring Julien with his newfound boldness. "What do you want to do, Jean?"

"I want to live the Arabian Nights with you."

Explicit Material Ahead

This is your final warning

Julien squeaked as Jean pulled him up. His gaze was intense as he grabbed a fistful of Julien's shirt and pushed him back against a wall. Julien still looked petrified, but he cupped his hand around Jean's face and kissed him, deeply and passionately. Jean's hands fumbled against the buttons of Julien's shirt. He didn't want to unbutton it, he wanted to tear it off. Julien gently guided his hands through the unfamiliar motions and then he was naked from the waist up. Jean got dizzy just looking at him. He lost track of the world as Julien reached over and removed his sweater and slid his hands all over his chest and his back. Julien pulled at the waist of Jean's trousers and suddenly, his hands were down Jean's pants. Mmmmmmm, Jean thought. He closed his eyes and revelled in the sensation.

They stumbled to the bed and Julien pushed Jean onto it, climbing on top of him. Jean watched as Julien's fingers trailed to the buttons at the front of his pants and undid them, pulling them off and tossing them aside. Julien tugged at the waist of his boxer shorts and suddenly, Jean was terrified. He gritted his teeth. This was what he wanted, right?

Julien paused. "You okay?" His eyes were concerned.

Jean's stomach flipped as he remembered why he had fallen in love with Julien. Because he wasn't like the other boys. Because he didn't think of only himself. Because he put the people he loved first.

"I'm terrified," Jean admitted.

"So am I." They both smiled shyly at each other. "We can stop if you want. We don't have to do it." Julien pulled himself up.

"No, wait." Jean cleared his throat awkwardly. "I want to do it with you. It feels right. And we're all going to have to get over our fears sometime." He took Julien's hand and twined their fingers together. "Je t'aime, Julien."

"Je t'aime aussi. Je t'aime maintenant et je t'aimerai toujours."

They explored each other all night, their ecstatic pleasure tinged with despair. It felt so new, yet so familiar. As they broke apart in the early hours of morning, Jean whispered "Did you mean what you said?"

"About wanting to love you until the end of time? Yes, every word."

When they woke again, it was late morning and the sunlight was streaming through the massive window.

"When do you leave?"

"Three."

"What time is it now?"

"Eleven thirty."

"Enough time to do it again?"

"Do what again?"

Jean raised a dark and mysterious eyebrow.

"Oh. Of course." Julien glanced at the window seat. "Get up." He threw off the duvet and Jean followed suit.

"Where are we going?"

"We're going to christen that window seat."

"Wow. Okay." Jean was about to say something else but Julien covered his mouth with his own. They sprawled over the window seat, a tangle of limbs, as the door to the room opened.

"Julien, dear, I'm home!" a familiar voice sang through the room. Mme Quentin stopped dead in her tracks as she saw the two boys staring horrified back at her. "Oh, for Pete's sake!" She turned and stalked away.

The boys looked at each other. "Who's Pete?"

"Maman, please!" Julien was fully dressed now. He lingered at the entrance of the living room, unsure of what to do. Mme. Quentin was sitting on the couch, hunched over a mug filled with vodka.

"Julien, I thought you were a good Catholic boy. I guess I was wrong." She shook her head. "Imagine my horror when I saw my own son in the throes of sodomy. I want you gone. Both of you. Pack your things and get out of my home. You have an hour, and I don't ever want to see you again. Adieu, Julien."

They packed their things quickly. When they left, Mme Quentin was sitting in the same position in the living room as Julien had left her before, though her mug was empty. She did not acknowledge them.

"What now?" Jean asked when they were safely outside.

"I say we buy food." Julien started walking, not bothering to check if Jean was following.

"No, I mean about your mother. You have to have felt something back there. It's okay. You can talk to me about it."

"No, it didn't bother me in the slightest." Julien's voice wavered as he said it. He stopped in front of a bistro. "Let's eat here." As he was about to go inside, Jean grabbed his wrist.

"I'm here, if you want to talk, but I'll only be here for another two hours. Talk to me now, Julien, because I'm still here."

"Can we eat first?"

"Sure."

They bought sandwiches at the bistro and sat on the patio to eat.

"I always hoped that she would accept us. That she loved me enough to put her prejudices aside. I guess not." Julien began to cry, silently. Jean put his arm around his shoulders and kissed the top of his head.

"She's not ready for us. Give her some time, Julien. Maybe she'll come around."

"And what if she doesn't?"

"Her loss for letting her beautiful loving and kind son go."

"Jean?"

"Yeah?"

"I still stand by what I said last Christmas."

"And what was that?"

"I would burn in a thousand hells if it meant that I got to be with you."

Their journey to the gare seemed impossibly short, yet there they were. Jean watched despondently as Julien handed his trunks to the train attendant to place in his compartment. He glanced at his watch. They had ten precious minutes left with each other for the rest of eternity. It was that sad. How could life be so screwed up? Jean wondered. Six months. Six beautiful months. He returned to the present to find Julien looking at him. Tears pooled at the bottom of his eyes but he bit his lip and tried not to let them fall.

"If I start crying now," Julien said softly, "I might never stop."

There was a lump in Jean's throat as well, as he gently cupped Julien's face. "You be good now, mon cher. Don't do anything dumb, like trying to hide a Jean from the Gestapo." They both laughed.

"I'll write you."

"So will I. I'll see you in the newspaper someday. You'll have done something amazing, like rescued a thousand orphans or something."

"Jean?"

"Yeah?"

"I think God only gives us one chance with love. And you were mine. I will never love another, because you were the one."

Shit, this is it, Jean thought, as he began sobbing in earnest.

"Sweetheart, don't cry, or then I'll start crying too and we'll never stop." The whistle on the train blew. "I need to go now."

"Julien? You are my one, and no matter where we are, you will always be my one." Jean glanced around the platform. It was still saturated with people, but against his better judgement, he was going to do it. After all, these people still owed him for sending him off to Poland to be gassed. He turned back to Julien, grabbed him around the waist, and captured his lips in one of the most passionate kisses they had ever shared. Time slowed as they enjoyed their last moments together, liplocked.

When they finally broke apart, Jean gently pushed Julien onto the train.

"Au revoir, Julien."

"Adieu, Jean."

The attendant shut the door between them and the train slowly moved out of the station.