Here are two astonishing facts: Gilbert Cocteau was standing outside the door of one of Lacombrade's classrooms, and he was holding, of all things, a tattered, Latin textbook
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The truth was, Gilbert hardly knew what to say to Jules, most of the time. Conversation - talk without trying to flirt or to win over some favor or to bite into whoever he was chatting with - was a skill that he'd had little chance to refine since coming to Lacombrade. Now, as he gave a small shrug of his shoulders and then paced into the room, walking with a very deliberate, cattish gait, was one of those moments. What did the older boy expect - a lie or a confession about the trick he had planned? Or something else?
He dropped the book onto one of the classroom desks, leaving it settled face-down and open to the scribbled-upon page, before moving back to the doorframe, where he set his eyes back on Jules. They were questioning, now, plainly so,but he didn't give voice to whatever was puzzling him. (It was a hard problem to phrase, wondering over why Jules seemed to wonder over him the way he did.)
"He'll be glad to have the book back for class," Gilbert murmured, finally. "It's up to him whether he likes what I wrote or not. I can't help something like that. I only wrote him what I had to say."
"Hm, well, I hope he doesn't try to take those words for truth," Jules replied, casually. He hadn't read Gilbert's note thoroughly, but he knew the boy well enough to expect some meaningless note with a hidden purpose. No doubt the owner of the book would spend a good portion of tomorrow either emotionally disturbed or incredibly confused.
But that was what Gilbert did, after all, and Jules knew better than to try to change his mind about something he was already determined to do. Instead, he decided, it was best to look after Gilbert for a while, to keep him from whatever his next scheme might be.
"What would you say to having some tea with me after you return that?" he asked, trying not to study the words of the note out of sheer curiosity. "Unless you have other plans for the evening?"
Still, with the text abandoned on that desk, he moved back through the door and stopped directly beside Jules. He didn't get close, not in the way that would suggest he had his usual sort of trouble in mine, but the way he changed direction and put himself right in line with the older boy said plainly that he'd made up his mind to take that offer. Whatever his other plans for the evening might be.
"Fine."
It was always confused him, why Jules took such a marked interest in him. He could guess, he thought - he had a very standard guess for why any male, especially an older one, would seem interested - but Jules made even that conclusion difficult.
It was curious, really, why Gilbert would so often agree to such things when prompted. Jules assumed that either meant that Gilbert was becoming attached to him or wanted to find out more about him -- that was much better than the alternative at least, that Gilbert was planning to ruin him somehow; Jules was fairly certain that he currently had the upper hand, but one could never be sure when it came to Gilbert.
He nodded, looking Gilbert straight in the eye. "That was what I had planned, yes. I keep most of my tea in my room, after all." A good portion of it was in Rosemariné's room, actually, but Jules was certainly not going to bring that up.
It was almost ironic that Rosemariné, having bought the tea and selected the room, was indirectly helping his dearest friend and worst enemy get to know each other. That wasn't any sort of bother to Jules, though; c'est la vie.
There was a slight, questioning flick of one of those delicate eyebrows of Gilbert's, as he looked up at Jules, slinking into place beside him. The closeness he kept to him, standing almost arm-to-arm with him, wasn't properly suggestive - he didn't move to take Jules' hand or do anything that would be an obvious signal that they were doing more than traveling together. But he hovered near him, nearer than was likely appropriate. Not that it would surprise anyone, with Gilbert.
The truth was, though, it was almost a reflex for him. Walking on his own through the halls, without anyone around to lean on....that could end badly for him, sometimes.
"Not very," Jules replied, smiling slightly at Gilbert; it was nice to see the boy not trying to seduce anybody (least of all him). He took their proximity as merely a sign of friendship, although he imagined that, had any people been roaming the halls, they would have made incorrect assumptions. Jules was positive that there were rumours about himself and Gilbert, although neither of them was a stranger to that kind of gossip. Still, years of family "friends" saying nasty things about his parents had rendered Jules immune to such talk, so being physically close to Gilbert didn't bother him one bit.
The silence of the empty hallway was almost spooky; Jules felt the need to strike up a conversation because of that in addition to his everyday desire to take care of Gilbert. Unfortunately, they didn't really have that much in common. "What kind of tea should I make, do you think?" he asked after a short while. Tea was always a good subject of conversation, he thought.
Gilbert showed little concern for the hush of the hallways around them. For a few moments, it looked like he wasn't even inclined to respond to Jules' question. it wasn't until they'd moved out past the door of the class building and into the cool, open air of the campus that he tilted his head back to show that he was thinking.
"Do you have Ceylon tea?"
The boy folded his arms low on his chest, holding them together so that he was not quite embracing himself but was tucking the jacket of his uniform more snugly around him. Chatting like this always put part of him on edge. (And the embarrassing truth was that, even on a subject so simple, he had little idea of what to say. Wine, he could have talked smartly about, because wine was something he was familar, too familiar with. Tea made him struggle to recall even the first time he'd had it.)
Somehow, the silence felt less awkward when he wasn't the cause of it, so Jules let it be until Gilbert answered him. He noticed that Gilbert was shivering before processing his words, though. "It's been quite cold lately," he said. "It's about time you started wearing an extra layer when outdoors." Jules had come wearing a winter jacket over his uniform, which he promptly began to remove; Gilbert was clearly much more sensitive to the temperature than he was.
"As for your question," he continued, pausing for only a second to think, "I do indeed. It is quite nice, isn't it? Such a pleasant yet strong flavor."
Watching Jules take off his coat, Gilbert didn't bother to reach out to take it. He did move forward a step or two and heft his shoulders a little, perhaps suggesting that he meant for the older student to help him slip it on - or perhaps he was just shrugging. He'd ran around in less (much, much less) in the cold. He could almost ignore the effects it had on him, by now.
"If you have that, that's fine. Or whatever else...I'm not so particular about it."
Jules hadn't expected for Gilbert to just take the coat from him, really; it wouldn't be like him at all to accept help so readily. He draped it over Gilbert's shoulders instead. "Put that on, all right?" he said. "You'll freeze to death."
"I have a bit of everything, really," he continued as Gilbert took the coat, "if you'd come more often, you could sample a bit of everything."
With the coat already pulled over his shoulders, the boy obliged, raising his arms up to slide them through the sleeves. That done, he bundled it around him...and, in his usual, sensuous way, seemed to nestle right against the material, taking palpable pleasure in the new-found warmth. He could run around in the cold half-dressed, but that added comfort was something he would bask in, for the moment. Especially since it had been given by someone else so willingly.
"I'm not that interested in tea."
It was a potentially cutting remark, and there was a (mostly habitual) edge running along Gilbert's tongue as he said it. Hobbies, interests, and leisurely pursuits like that were things that had been coaxed out of him long ago. Still, Gilbert wasn't trying to snipe, just now -- really, this level of conversation was a grand concession to manners, as far as things went with him.
"I don't know what you see in it that holds your attention."
The question took Jules a bit by surprise; was there really any why involved in one's leisurely enjoyments? He enjoyed drinking tea because it was available and tasty, no matter what situation he was in at any given time. Gilbert couldn't relate to that, he supposed, which was really quite unfortunate.
"Because it's relaxing, I suppose," he answered, "and I need something to fill my time, don't I?"
The truth was, Gilbert hardly knew what to say to Jules, most of the time. Conversation - talk without trying to flirt or to win over some favor or to bite into whoever he was chatting with - was a skill that he'd had little chance to refine since coming to Lacombrade. Now, as he gave a small shrug of his shoulders and then paced into the room, walking with a very deliberate, cattish gait, was one of those moments. What did the older boy expect - a lie or a confession about the trick he had planned? Or something else?
He dropped the book onto one of the classroom desks, leaving it settled face-down and open to the scribbled-upon page, before moving back to the doorframe, where he set his eyes back on Jules. They were questioning, now, plainly so,but he didn't give voice to whatever was puzzling him. (It was a hard problem to phrase, wondering over why Jules seemed to wonder over him the way he did.)
"He'll be glad to have the book back for class," Gilbert murmured, finally. "It's up to him whether he likes what I wrote or not. I can't help something like that. I only wrote him what I had to say."
Reply
But that was what Gilbert did, after all, and Jules knew better than to try to change his mind about something he was already determined to do. Instead, he decided, it was best to look after Gilbert for a while, to keep him from whatever his next scheme might be.
"What would you say to having some tea with me after you return that?" he asked, trying not to study the words of the note out of sheer curiosity. "Unless you have other plans for the evening?"
Reply
Still, with the text abandoned on that desk, he moved back through the door and stopped directly beside Jules. He didn't get close, not in the way that would suggest he had his usual sort of trouble in mine, but the way he changed direction and put himself right in line with the older boy said plainly that he'd made up his mind to take that offer. Whatever his other plans for the evening might be.
"Fine."
It was always confused him, why Jules took such a marked interest in him. He could guess, he thought - he had a very standard guess for why any male, especially an older one, would seem interested - but Jules made even that conclusion difficult.
"Will we be going back to your room for tea?"
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He nodded, looking Gilbert straight in the eye. "That was what I had planned, yes. I keep most of my tea in my room, after all." A good portion of it was in Rosemariné's room, actually, but Jules was certainly not going to bring that up.
It was almost ironic that Rosemariné, having bought the tea and selected the room, was indirectly helping his dearest friend and worst enemy get to know each other. That wasn't any sort of bother to Jules, though; c'est la vie.
Reply
There was a slight, questioning flick of one of those delicate eyebrows of Gilbert's, as he looked up at Jules, slinking into place beside him. The closeness he kept to him, standing almost arm-to-arm with him, wasn't properly suggestive - he didn't move to take Jules' hand or do anything that would be an obvious signal that they were doing more than traveling together. But he hovered near him, nearer than was likely appropriate. Not that it would surprise anyone, with Gilbert.
The truth was, though, it was almost a reflex for him. Walking on his own through the halls, without anyone around to lean on....that could end badly for him, sometimes.
"I forget," he sighed, "It isn't far, is it?"
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The silence of the empty hallway was almost spooky; Jules felt the need to strike up a conversation because of that in addition to his everyday desire to take care of Gilbert. Unfortunately, they didn't really have that much in common. "What kind of tea should I make, do you think?" he asked after a short while. Tea was always a good subject of conversation, he thought.
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"Do you have Ceylon tea?"
The boy folded his arms low on his chest, holding them together so that he was not quite embracing himself but was tucking the jacket of his uniform more snugly around him. Chatting like this always put part of him on edge. (And the embarrassing truth was that, even on a subject so simple, he had little idea of what to say. Wine, he could have talked smartly about, because wine was something he was familar, too familiar with. Tea made him struggle to recall even the first time he'd had it.)
"I could drink that, if you did. It's nice."
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"As for your question," he continued, pausing for only a second to think, "I do indeed. It is quite nice, isn't it? Such a pleasant yet strong flavor."
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Watching Jules take off his coat, Gilbert didn't bother to reach out to take it. He did move forward a step or two and heft his shoulders a little, perhaps suggesting that he meant for the older student to help him slip it on - or perhaps he was just shrugging. He'd ran around in less (much, much less) in the cold. He could almost ignore the effects it had on him, by now.
"If you have that, that's fine. Or whatever else...I'm not so particular about it."
Reply
"I have a bit of everything, really," he continued as Gilbert took the coat, "if you'd come more often, you could sample a bit of everything."
Reply
"I'm not that interested in tea."
It was a potentially cutting remark, and there was a (mostly habitual) edge running along Gilbert's tongue as he said it. Hobbies, interests, and leisurely pursuits like that were things that had been coaxed out of him long ago. Still, Gilbert wasn't trying to snipe, just now -- really, this level of conversation was a grand concession to manners, as far as things went with him.
"I don't know what you see in it that holds your attention."
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"Because it's relaxing, I suppose," he answered, "and I need something to fill my time, don't I?"
Reply
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