Can I Tell You? -X-Men-

“Jean-Paul?” Bobby Drake said, plopping down in the rec room couch next to the arrogant Canadian.

“Can I help you, Monsieur Drake?” Jean-Paul said, removing his glasses and staring squarely at the Long-Islander.

“I wanted to know if you were interested in seeing a movie with me?” Bobby asked; sweat covering his palms (cold sweat, of course.)

“Wouldn’t it hurt you to be seen with someone like myself?” Northstar asked, coolly, an arrogant smirk rising on his face.

“Of course it wouldn’t!” Bobby said, blushing, then realizing Northstar was being his cold… cruel… self. “I mean, you know, as a last resort.”

“I see…” Northstar said, biting his lip and looking up as if in deep thought. He took in a sharp breath and then smirked. “Very well, Robert,” he said, “I could use a good stretch of the legs and some juvenile action movie that you men find so bracing.”

“I… uh…” Bobby said, “yeah, action… movie… uh-huh.”

“Well,” Jean-Paul said, “Let’s go to this movie.”

X

Bobby’s eyes darted around nervously.

“Well, Robert,” Northstar said, “Which movie is it? The movie with the guns or the movie with the explosions?”

“Actually…” Bobby said, looking around uneasily, “I wanted to see that one.” He pointed to a movie poster with a guy holding a girl in his arms in the rain.

“Robert…” Northstar said, “You do know that is classified in the genre of a ‘chick flick’? D’accord?”

“I- I know…” Bobby said. “That’s why I asked you to come with me…”

“Because I’m gay, and you assume I’ll enjoy a movie made for women?” Northstar asked, “I’d rather see the movie with the explosions.”

“B- but I…” Bobby said. “I thought… y- you’d understand… you aren’t judgmental… I- I thought…”

“That I would want to see it too?”

“No.” Bobby snapped. “No, it’s just that I know that you wouldn’t make fun of me for seeing a movie like that… and I don’t want to see it alone…” Bobby looks hurt, and sticks out a pouty lower lip.

“Fine,” Northstar grumbles, “but the next time I want to see one of my foreign movies, I’m going to drag you along.”

“Fair trade,” Bobby says. “but you’ll have to pay for my ticket.” He hands the man at the desk a twenty and hands a ticket to Jean-Paul.

X
(Jean-Paul’s P.O.V.)

I sat down next to Robert in the dark, dirty theater. My heart was pounding and I didn’t know what to do.

Robert had confided in me, that he liked girl movies. I, myself, am not particularly fond of them, but I can’t believe he chose me to know about his weird liking for them.

I know it’s hopeless to wish for Robert to have any interest in me, he’s straight after all, and he would never be interested in me… But I can’t give up that last speck of hope that maybe, maybe, maybe, deep, (I mean deep) down, Robert might be interested in me.

I shifted in my seat, hoping he didn’t notice how uncomfortable I was. He was just so gorgeous in the light that flickered from the screen.

Robert has a boyish charm. He has adorable pink cheeks, crystalline blue eyes, and the most soft-looking blonde hair that I… I just… I can’t even write it. Wow. How pathetic.

But the most important thing about Robert’s appearance… is his lips. Oh mon Dieu, what I wouldn’t give to know what those lips feel like… I would’ve given anything.

The previews rolled on by, and Robert tried, on several occasions, to steal some of my popcorn.

“You know, Robert,” I said, “I’m the one here who has the overactive metabolism.”

“So? Can’t I get some food?”

“Non,” I said again, why did I have to be a jerk, couldn’t I just have given him some popcorn? “You have a slow metabolism, you don’t need to eat.”

He coughed a little, I don’t think he really realized how cute it was… and he- he just turned and watched the movie. Not another word to me for the whole damn thing.

I didn’t even get the slightest bit mad, either. I just spent the whole movie watching him. Watching the way he smiled so gently when a cute thing happened in the movie that I do not remember a word of… watching how when there was a sad part, he would glance over at me and see that I wasn’t crying, and then he would act all manly and make it seem like something was in his eye.

Seeing him cry turned something inside me, and it made me want to pull him into my arms, and assure him, right then and there, that no matter what would happen… no matter who he had been hurt by, he would always have me.

I didn’t really want Robert to know I was crazy though, so I kept my arms to myself.

X
(Bobby’s P.O.V.)

During the whole movie it felt like Jean-Paul was watching me. I’m probably just wasting my time… I know he’s gay… but… there’s no way he’d ever be interested in a guy like me.

I sat through the movie, for a while I tried to steal some of his popcorn, but he caught me.

“You know, Robert,” he said, I love how he pronounces my name. Ro-bare it’s so hot. His accent is the kind of thing that makes me want to do things no straight man has ever done, “I’m the one here who has the overactive metabolism.”

“So? Can’t I get some food?” I pressed, hoping that if he agreed we’d bump hands in the popcorn bowl. He seemed to consider letting me have some. I could tell, because he was biting his lip. I don’t even think he knows he does that, but it’s so adorable, and I can’t stand it. Why does he torture me with his incessant lip biting? I’m sure if he knew it attracted me, he wouldn’t do it.

“Non,” he said, using that delicious French accent again. My breath hitched as he spoke, “you have a slow metabolism, you don’t need to eat.”

I wanted to come up with some sort of witty retort, but I couldn’t come up with one. I had to try so hard to concentrate on the movie. I mean, what else was I supposed to do? Kiss him? I don’t think so. Admit that I’ve been in love with him for weeks now? Once again, no.

I just wanted him to wrap his arms around me and to snuggle up into that mouth-wateringly firm chest of his.

Of course, admitting that would only inform Jean-Paul of my insanity. So I kept my fantasies of his arms to myself.

X
(Third person)

Kurt Wagner’s tail drooped. “You never do anything vith me and the guys anymore…”

“I’m sorry,” Bobby said, “I’m just… a little stressed out right now.”

“How’s dat?” Remy LeBeau asked, snapping open a beer and staring darkly at his ‘friend’.

“Well… I think I’m in love with someone, but I’m not sure… and I don’t want to ruin it if-” Bobby hadn’t yet told his friends he was gay, “-she doesn’t love me back… I… I just need some alone time.”

“You tell us you need alone time and then you go off and see movies with Beaubier,” Peter Rasputin said.

“I’m sorry guys,” Bobby says, “but… he’s gay and he really helps me with my problems… you know, and I… I just need someone who can give me advice like a girl, but will hang out with me like a guy right now. Don’t worry, I’ll go to your 21st birthday Peter, and you guys, I adore you all… but I’m just a little distressed right now…” Bobby looked forlorn and his three foreign friends softened.

“Well, I suppose, we coul’ do without ya fo’ a while,” Remy said.

“Ja,” Kurt agreed.

“I will miss you at the bars, Bobby,” Peter said.

“You’re too young to be drinking,” Bobby said.

“I am a year younger than you, and I know that you started drinking in eighth grade, do not pull that crap with me,” Peter laughed.

X

Bobby trudged silently up to his room, in hopes to avoid more of his neglected friends from lunging at him. Couldn’t they understand? He had enough shit to deal with. He’s always known he was gay, but he could mask it. He could lie and say he loved Lorna, or Annie… but he never did. And now he was in love with a man who was not only incredibly attractive, but living in the same building as him and gay.

He turned the doorknob and sulked into his dorm, flopping angrily on the bed.

Everyday when he woke up he hoped that for once he wouldn’t be gay, that maybe, somehow, in his sleep he’d actually fallen in love with someone.

He closed his eyes and massaged his temples, sighing. There he was, as soon as Bobby closed his eyes there he was, smirking arrogantly underneath his eyelids.

Bobby shook his head and opened his eyes. No. Not today, he wasn’t going to sit around and fantasize about Northstar, he was going to wake up straight soon, and then he’d fall in love with some attractive girl and they’d get married, have a house with a white picket fence, and 2.5 children. He ran his hand through his hair and sighed again.

“Why me? God? Huh? What’d I do?” he snapped, staring up at nothing and falling back onto the bed.

(Dream)

Bobby rolled over contentedly, stroking the firm chest beneath him.

He curled gently into Jean-Paul and giggled.

“What’s so funny, Chér Robert?” Northstar asked.

“How perfect it all is…” Bobby said.

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” Bobby said, and he and the Canadian were interlocked, kissing.

(Third Person)

Bobby woke up with a start. He needed to stop having these dreams. He was getting sick and tired of waking up gay, and realizing he was also alone.

He sighed his, (Oh I don’t know) twelfth sigh that day, and drew the blanket up to his chin.

“How many more goddamn nights is this gunna happen?” He asked no one. Then he directed his attention to the picture of Kurt, Remy, Peter, Logan, Ororo, and Jean-Paul. Well, just the Jean-Paul portion, anyways. “Why don’t you love me? I love you so much I can’t fucking breathe, why don’t you love me…?”

X

In another wing of the mansion, Jean-Paul was laying, wide awake, in his bed, staring at the bumps in his ceiling. He couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t concentrate on anything long enough before it swung back into Bobby. He rubbed his eyes and rolled on his side, trying to fall asleep, but now he was just staring at the wall thinking of Bobby. Several more positions revealed that the pillow reminded him of Bobby, his nightstand reminded him of Bobby, a different patch of ceiling reminded him of Bobby, his own hands over his eyes reminded him of Bobby, and even the TV reminded him of Bobby.

X
(Jean-Paul’s P.O.V.)

Today Robert asked me if I wanted to go to the Ice-capades with him. I said ‘yes’. Don’t know why, maybe so I can spend time sitting next to him in agony, as he flirts with girls.

I hate that I can’t say no to him, I mean, sure, I can turn down his request for popcorn… but other than that I am defenseless, and I wish I could refuse the kid… but he looks at me with his big blue eyes and I melt inside…

I love him so much it hurts.

We sat close to the ice; Robert had the tickets for a long time. I don’t understand why he asked me to go, I mean, he’s allowed to like things that involve ice… he is ICEMAN for Christ’s sake.

When he sat down next to me, his arm brushed against mine and I didn’t know what to make of it… it felt incredible, just to brush past him… I wanted to kiss him so badly I had to kick myself repeatedly.

“You like anyone?” Bobby asked me, he sounded serious. I gulped.

“Non,” I said. He smiled… (Grimaced? I couldn’t tell.).

“Me neither,” he said in kind of a rushed way.

“Fascinating,” I replied. “Why do you ask?”

“Just striking up conversation,” Robert informed me. I could see him getting red, I was making him uncomfortable.

“Well, non, I do not like anyone,” I confirmed, even though my mind was screaming YOU ROBERT! I LOVE YOU!

“Cool.”

“Oui.”

“So…” Robert said.

“Am I boring you?” I asked, I had to state the obvious.

“No!” Robert said, suddenly, “’Course not. I’m just thinking of something to say.”

He wanted the armrest… I could tell, he kept looking at my arm, resting on it. Even though the mention of his name makes my knees quake, I wouldn’t have given up my armrest for all of Midas’s gold.

The next thing I knew, his hand was on top of mine. He was probably trying to make me move my arm, I didn’t want to torture myself any more, so I gently removed my arm from the armrest.

For the rest of the ‘capades’ we sat in utter silence… I’m pretty sure, I had either officially bored Robert for the last time, or he was mad at me for some unknown reason… whatever the case, he wouldn’t look at me the whole way home.

X
(Bobby’s P.O.V.)

I asked Jean-Paul to go the Ice-Capades. I knew he’d go because he likes winter sports.

He sat next to me, and god he was so perfect. He has the thickest most amazing black hair and whenever I see it, I picture my fingers tangled in it. He has piercing grey eyes that everyone thinks are cold and malicious, but really, if you really look into his eyes, you can tell how he actually feels about something. His features are sharp, and he is the prefect package of firm, toned muscles. The one thing that is most intriguing about him is his ears. His ears come to a nice, elf-like point. God. I want to rub my fingers along the tip. I bet it would tickle him.

When we sat down, I couldn’t resist, but to brush my arm against his. I don’t think he noticed, that’s probably not a bad thing. I spent a while praying to God, Allah, and Yahweh that he would kiss me… I got not luck. I wanted to kick myself.

“You like anyone?” I asked, trying to do more than just not talk. Like usual.

“Non,” he said, I couldn’t help but flash a little, hungry smile. I love it when he uses French words… I mean, I know that no and non hardly count, but they do.

“Me neither,” I said. I think I said it too fast. I hope he didn’t notice, he’d hate me if he knew I loved him.

“Fascinating,” he said. I thought I was Scot-free, I thought he was done, but no, “Why do you ask?” he added. My throat filled up with some sort of paste-y goo.

“Just striking up conversation,” I said, blushing. I pray he didn’t notice. I’d die if he did.

“Well, non, I don’t like anyone,” Northstar confirmed, ripping my heart out. God… I just wanted to seek shelter in his arms and whisper that I’ll always love him, whenever he’s ready.

“Cool.” I said, trying to sound unfazed, I don’t think it worked… I think I came off as bored… I hope not.

“Oui.” He said, I nearly died. More French.

“So…” I said… I needed to change the subject or I would start to cry.

“Am I boring you?” he asked me.

“No!” I said, immediately… regretting how fast I snapped out my answer. “’course not, I’m just thinking of what to say.” I added that note for good measure. There would have been nothing worse than the Canadian of my dreams hating me. Then we never spoke the rest of the show.

His firm, but tender (I hoped) hand was laying on the armrest… god how I longed to hold it… I kept staring at it… I wanted to hold it so badly. I thought, perhaps, if I lowered my hand onto the armrest I could rest my hand on top of his.

I tried this, but he pulled his hand away. I think he was mad at me… I couldn’t bear to look at him, I was too embarrassed, I looked out the window the whole way home.

X
(Third Person.)

“Warren!” Kurt called up the stairs, “We’re going to the bar! Wanna come?”

“You guys never invite me,” Warren Worthington III said, bounding down the steps.

“’cause you’re a docile bastard,” Remy pointed out. “We like fun people, monsieur, fun people who don’ suck up t’ Professeur X.”

“A simple, ‘today we are inviting you Warren,’ would have sufficed,” Warren snapped. Remy chuckled.

“Where’s the fun in dat, homme?” Remy said, “If you don’ wanna go, we’ll take ol’ Cyclops.”

“No, I’ll go,” Warren said.

“Bon,” Remy said, “allez viens.” They stared at him blankly. “Let’s go.” He tried again.

“I got it now,” Kurt said. Dragging Warren towards the car.

“Why aren’t you guys bringing Bobby?” Warren asked.

“Because, Bobby stopped being friends with everyone, he just kinda mopes around, occasionally does stuff with Northstar but…”

X

Bobby sighed and glared at the phone. He wanted to call Northstar, wanted to know if the man was mad at him for trying to hold his hand. He didn’t want to seem so desperate and longing… but he wanted to know if they were still friends or not.

He dialed the first few numbers of Jean-Paul’s cell, and then hung up. No. He wasn’t going to make a fool of himself. Jean-Paul clearly didn’t have any interest in him. Did he? Was there the possibility that Jean-Paul secretly loved Bobby and in the end Bobby would be snuggled gently in his arms? Was there a chance that Northstar would whisper that he loved Bobby?

Bobby realized he’d gone off fantasizing again, and shook his head. He ran a shaky hand through his hair and made his way to the bathroom.

He turned the tap to H and splashed the scalding water across his face. (Cold water felt good. Not the same effect as w/ most).

“Snap out of this, Drake,” he said to himself in the mirror, “You have to stop doing this to yourself.

“It’s hard when you love someone and you know you can’t have them,” Jean Grey’s voice said.

“BWAH!” Bobby shrieked, leaping backwards. “Jean…” he said, clutching his chest and gasping for air.

“-and no. I actually haven’t been snooping… it’s just that obvious,” Jean said.

“What’s that obvious?” Bobby asked, trying to mask what he already knew had been discovered.

“You love Jean-Paul so much it’s tearing you apart.”

“Ew! Jean! I’m straight, I could NEVER love a guy… let alone like one… I mean, dude, he’s a GUY… I don’t … I… Do you think he likes me at all?” Bobby spat.

“I don’t know…” Jean said. “But he isn’t mad at you… so if you would like to do something with him tonight, you can call him.”

X

“Allô?” Jean-Paul’s voice said over the phone.

“Hey…” Bobby said.

“Oh, Robert… I did not know you knew this number,” Jean-Paul said, cheering inside.

“Jean gave it to me a while ago… Um… anyways… I just wanted to know if you’d be interested in going out to dinner with me?”

Silence.

“You know… as friends… There’s this new restaurant and…” Bobby felt as though he had to continue.

“Of course I’ll come, Robert. When?” Northstar asked. Bobby imagined the Canadian laying on his on his stomach, legs in the air, twirling the phone cord in his finger with a huge grin on his face.

In reality, Northstar was sitting at his desk, gripping the phone with two hands and feeling both eager and let down.

“I dunno…” Bobby said. “Say seven? You wanna come to my room then?”

“Sure,” Jean-Paul said. “Er… what sort of restaurant is this…?”

“It’s a nice Italian one…” Bobby said.

“Okay, bon. I’ll pick you up at seven, a bientôt,” Jean-Paul said. Hanging up the phone and dropping it on his desk angrily.

Bobby set the phone down gently, tears swimming in his eyes. He had just sealed his fate… he was going to tell Jean-Paul about how he felt. Even if it was the last thing he did...

Bobby and Jean-Paul entered the restaurant and were seated across from each other. This was hell for both men.

Bobby’s hands were sweating profusely under the table, and he was trying to make eye contact with Jean-Paul.

Northstar was trying to avoid contact, and was occupying himself in distracting himself from thinking about the man who was sitting across from him.

Finally, he looked up at Bobby. Their eyes locked.

“Jean-Paul…” Bobby began, “I- I wanted to tell you something…” he twirled his watch around on his wrist and stared at his fork, “I- I think I’m gay…”

Jean-Paul studied him.

“Very humorous, Robert,” Northstar said, “hilarious joke.”

“No it’s not-”

“I don’t need to sit here and take this, I could have been enjoying my book,” Northstar snapped. “Good evening, Robert.” He got up and left Bobby.

Bobby stared in awe as the man walked away, and then dropped his face into his hands… sobbing pathetically. The ONE man he expected to accept his change HATED him.

X
(Jean-Paul’s P.O.V.)

I ran home and into my room, slamming the door shut.

I dropped slowly onto my bed, face in my hands, crying softly. I couldn’t believe Robert would make a joke like that. Robert of all people… I loved him and I couldn’t FUCKING believe that he would do that to me…

Well, there was no more hope I decided… There was no way that even deep, deep, deep, deep down Robert was interested. There was no way…

X
(Third Person)

“What’s going on?” Jean-Paul asked the group of men (Kurt, Remy, Warren, and Peter) crowded around Bobby’s room.

“Bobby is refusing to come out,” Peter said.

“Pourquoi?” Jean-Paul asked.

“Shh, Remy’s tryin’ to hear what Bobby be sayin’!” Remy snapped, pressing his ear against the door. Jean-Paul listened close.

Bobby’s voice was weak and it sounded as though he was crying.

“L-leave me al-alone…” he whimpered, “th-the one person I- I expected to understand d-doesn’t so… g-go away!”

Jean-Paul’s heart dropped through the floor. He had hurt Bobby, the man of his dreams was holed up in his room crying because he was too stupid… Robert wasn't making fun of his homosexuality, he was searching for it to comfort him. Jean-Paul knocked gently on the door.

“Robert?” he said, “It’s Jean-Paul, may I come in?”

“GO AWAY!” Bobby yelled through the door.

“Robert,” Northstar said, “If I have to I’ll bust open this door, you know I can. Je suis désole, Robert, I’m sorry… please… Open up this door now or I will break in.”

The door creaked slowly open. Jean-Paul was in the room in a blink and it was shut again.

Bobby looked terrible. Northstar wanted to punch himself for hurting the man like that.

“What do you want…?” Bobby said pathetically, dropping onto his bed.

“I need you to tell me the truth,” Jean-Paul said, “I mean, well… are you or are you not gay?”

“I am, Jean-Paul… I told you that last night…” Bobby said.

“Oh, Dieu, Robert, I’m so sorry…” Jean-Paul said, looking around to see if anyone could see him before pulling Bobby into a hug. “It will be okay…”

Bobby didn’t know what to say… he was too happy to be in Jean-Paul's arms. Jean-Paul was feeling the same about having Bobby in his arms. He rubbed Bobby’s back and assured him he’d be okay… everyone makes it through coming out… yaddah yaddah… all the shit his book was about.

Bobby’s sobs only grew louder as he hid his face in Northstar’s chest and whimpered.

“Merde! Robert I have a class to teach,” Jean-Paul said, gently removing Bobby from his arms. Gently, and oh so reluctantly.

“Th-thank you…” Bobby said, falling limply onto his bed.

“Robert, you might want to get some fresh air, it’s a lovely day outside…” Jean-Paul said as he scooted out the door.

“How is he, mon ami?” Remy asked, once Jean-Paul had exited the room.

“He is resting now, he’ll be okay,” Jean-Paul said, “Leave him alone… he’s going through a rough time… you’ll understand soon.”

X

“Jean-Paul?” Bobby said, entering his empty classroom.

“Oui?”

“C-can I tell you something… about… you know…” Bobby started. Jean-Paul got up and locked the door to his classroom.

“You would like to talk about coming out?” Jean-Paul said, he couldn’t believe Bobby was gay… hope swam through his veins as he spoke.

“Y-yeah…” Bobby said, taking a seat in one of the desks, “H-how did you know you were gay…?”

“Simple. I fell for a man,” Jean-Paul said.

“B-but you didn’t know if you were bisexual…”

“There’s no such thing, Robert… Bisexuality is a lie to make the new homosexual more comfortable,” Jean-Paul said, simply, writing a big, red, F on someone’s paper. (a/n: sorry if you're bisexual! I love you!)

“Oh.”

“How long have you know you were homosexual Robert?” Jean-Paul asked.

“Um, al-always I guess…” Bobby said.

“I see,” Jean-Paul said, “and how do you feel now that you’ve told someone?”

“Relieved… I guess… and scared…” Bobby said.

“That’s good. That’s how you are supposed to feel. Now… what made you finally realize that you were gay?”

“Well I-” Bobby was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“It’s one of my students, Robert, perhaps we could discuss this later?” Jean-Paul said.

“Yeah, how about at Starbucks tonight?” Bobby asked.

“Oui, D’accord,” Jean-Paul said, unlocking the door, “And Robert, you’ll be okay, I assure you.”

“Mr. Beaubier!” The student said, “I need help with the assignment. I mean it this time too, no pranks!”

“Very well, Julian, come in,” Jean-Paul said.

X

“Bon nuit, Robert,” Jean-Paul said, sitting down next to the young man at the Starbucks.

“Hey,” Bobby said.

“You wanted to discuss this further?” Jean-Paul questioned, arching a brow and sucking foam off his latte.

“Well, yes…” Bobby said, “I mean… what’s it like to… you know… be gay in public?”

“It’s very much the same,” Jean-Paul said, “Except that instead of girls looking at you with longing they grumble about how you’re a waste of a man.”

“That’s just because you’re attractive, they wouldn’t think that about me, no way,” Bobby said.

“Not true,” Jean-Paul said, “Trust me, they’ll think it.”

“I was also wondering… um… how do you tell if a guy likes you back…?” Bobby asked.

“Why? Have you fallen for someone already?” Jean-Paul said, sipping his latte and staring inquisitively at the cold man.

Bobby blushed. “I have,” he said.

“Well then, who is the lucky guy?” Jean-Paul asked.

“Well… I like-” Bobby’s cell phone rang just as he was about to say it. “Hello. Yeah… Okay. Yeah. Got it! Be right there!”

“Where is our mission?” Jean-Paul asked.

“Chicago,” Bobby said.

“Well, let’s go.”

X

Bobby stood in front of the mirror in his small bathroom. “I love you, Jean-Paul… no… I LIKE you… no… I…” He ran his hand through his hair and sighed, “just be straightforward, Drake… I like you…. No… that won’t do… hmm… I’ve been thinking abou- no…” he sighed and called Jean-Paul’s cell.

“Allô?” Jean-Paul said.

“Hey, Jean-Paul,” Bobby said.

“How are you Robert?”

“Good, I was wondering if you would meet me in the garden later… you know… to talk?” Bobby asked.

“Of course… when?”

“I dunno… eightish?”

“Okay,” Jean-Paul said, and hung up. Bobby sighed, he had three hours to figure out how he was going to tell Jean-Paul.

“I lo-like you… no… I… uh… I hate this…” Bobby continued to think.

X

“Hey,” Bobby said, entering the garden to find Jean-Paul there.

“Salut.”

“so…”

“What else would you like to talk about?” Jean-Paul asked.

“Uh… well… I dunno… tell me anything I need to know…”

“I- I do not know what you mean…” Jean-Paul said, “but, oh! Who is the lucky man that you like?”

Bobby looked weak, he shuffled his feet and cleared his throat. “You.”

Jean-Paul froze. “Me?”

“Yes…” Bobby said, feeling the pang of rejection.

“Oh, Robert… I…” Jean-Paul tried to think of what to do, but he was too busy refraining from doing a happy dance.

“I see…” Bobby said, turning and leaving.

“Wait! Robert!” Jean-Paul called.

“What?” Bobby asked angrily.

“I lo-like you too!”

“Y- you do?” Bobby said, turning and walking back toward the Canadian.

“I do…” Jean-Paul mumbled before Bobby’s mouth covered his own.

“I don’t like you, I love you,” Bobby corrected.

“Je t’aime aussi,” Jean-Paul whispered putting his arms around Bobby and kissing him again.